


A Song of Iron & Blood

by PumpkinKingofGames



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4651875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinKingofGames/pseuds/PumpkinKingofGames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prince that was forgotten becomes a warrior in the East. United with the Mother of Dragons, they will fight to free Westeros from the looming threat of the Blackfyres in the west.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Origins of the Song

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody, and thank you for taking the time out of your busy days to take a look at my very first attempt at getting my foot in the GOT/ASOIAF Fanfiction door. Now this story is completely AU, so there will be several changes to help the story along the path that I have envisioned for it. So kick back, relax, and enjo0y the show…it’s going to be a wild ride.

 

> _**Three-Hundred years ago a man named Aegon of the House Targaryen landed upon the shores of the continent of Westeros; bringing with him his two sister wives Rheanys and Visenya, and their followers from the ruins of the great freehold of Valyria. Aegon, who would later be dubbed the conqueror, launched his “War of Conquest” of the continent Westeros, and the subjugation of the seven kingdoms that made up the lands. With the might of his three majestic dragons, Balerion the Black Dread, Meraxes, and Vhagar, Aegon subjected the kingdoms of Westeros one by one to his rule. The strength of the dragons too much, even for the most powerful of armies to bear against, even united together.** _

-XXX-

_The cries and screams of thousands of men filled the air as the fires raged all around them. Knights cooked in their suits of metal, others ran like mad men, trying to escape the fire, and others sought to end their miserable lives rather than suffer the fire any longer. Now what was once a golden field of grass now stood a fierce burning field of fire, burning all that lay within. High up in the air, the three dragons and their riders circled above before diving back down and unleashing more of their awesome fire upon their victims. The Black fire of Balerion was a terrifying sight to behold, its heat melting flesh from bone, leaving nothing but the charred black bones of those caught in the flames._

-XXX-

 

> _**Once the fighting was done with, Aegon would found what would become the greatest dynasty ever beholden to the rest of the world; the Targaryen Dynasty. An empire that would live on throughout the generations, spanning the course of three-hundred years, and many believed would live on to the end of time itself. House Targaryen produced from it many rulers of great and infamous note. From upon their capital of King’s landing a great castle had been constructed by the time of the third of the Targaryen kings, Maegor the Cruel. A magnificent fortress they would call “The Red Keep”.** _

-XXX-

_From high upon a hill, looking down upon the city built at its base sat the mighty seat of the Targaryen Dynasty, the Red Keep. The majestic structure towered over the capital, standing as a blatant reminder of the Targaryen superiority over the whole of Westeros. And further in, deep within Maegor’s holdfast, laid the very seat of their empire, the Iron Throne. A mighty chair that was forged from the thousand blades of Aegon the conqueror’s enemies; all melted down and reformed into mighty throne that stood as a reminder of how the Targaryen’s came to be the rulers they were today._

-XXX-

 

> _**Despite the grandness of their achievements, and the many well-loved rulers the Targaryen’s had produced their fair share of monsters to sit upon the Iron Throne. Arguably the worst king, who brought forth the greatest of dangers of the realm was Aegon IV Targaryen, also known as Aegon the unworthy. Aegon’s vices were known far and wide, as was his non-existent restraint which did nothing to impede him from wine, food, and women. It was from his lust for flesh that he sired what would be known as the four great bastards; bastard children that Aegon, upon his death bed, would legitimize; and create the single most persistent threat to his family’s dynasty.** _
> 
> _**Daemon Blackfyre, so named after the ancestral sword of house Targaryen, would later in his life with his half-brother Aegor Rivers and many other great lords, lead a rebellion against his father’s heir to lay claim to the throne of Westeros; and to make himself king. In opposition his other half-brother Bryden Rivers would help lead a counter-offensive against his brother Daemon, and he himself would kill both Daemon, and his twin sons during the battle. Aegor, after a failed rallying of their forces, would spirit away the remainder of Daemon’s children to across the narrow sea, where the Blackfyres would continue to persist in their ambitions for decades.** _
> 
> _**The end of the Blackfyre pretenders came in no small part to the most unlikely of allies. During the war of the ninepenny kings, Barristan Selmy would face the last claimant of the blackfyre pretenders, Maelys Blackfyre, and slay him in single combat. Yet this victory would not have been accomplished had the most unlikely of sources revealed the threat, Maelys’ younger brother Daegon Blackfyre. The youngest of the Blackfyre’s and last of the male line came before the court of King Jaehaerys Targaryen, throwing himself at their mercy and offered vital information to help end the blackfyre threat once and for all in return for amnesty, and the right to return to westeros; and make a new way for his family’s name. In what would be seen as the most controversial decision the young king would ever make, he agreed to young Daegon’s terms.** _

-XXX-

_The court at large all gathered together as King Jaehaerys bestowed upon the young Daegon Blackfyre a full royal pardon for his aid in ending the contest of the Blackfyre pretenders for the Iron throne. Ladies whispered to themselves, men grunted and muttered about the young Daegon, while the Kingsguard looked upon the young Blackfyre as he was bided to rise from his knee to face the king. And none would notice the flash the briefly came over Daegon’s face as he slowly rose to meet his king: triumph._

-XXX-

 

> _**In the years that followed King Jaehaerys would eventually pass on, and the throne would be passed onto his son Aerys, who would be called the Mad King later during his reign. During the reign of Aerys, prosperity filled the land as the kingdom with governed through the combined leaderships of both Tywin Lannister, hand of the king, and Daegon Blackfyre, who served on Aerys’ small council, helped sustain the kingdoms. Eventually Daegon would pass and his son and heir, Daeron Blackfyre would rise to court as both the close friend and confidant of the crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen.** _
> 
> _**Rhaegar would go on to marry princess Elia of house Martell, a kind and witty young woman, who loved her prince dearly, a true treasure of Dorne. Her brothers wished her the fondest of farewells and prayed many blessings upon her and her husband. Within the year of their marriage Elia would give birth to Rhaegar’s first born child, the wonderful and joyous Princess Rhaenys. Elia’s health took a horrid turn after the birth, confining her to her bed for half a year due to sheer weakness of body. Elia shrugged off the warnings from maesters and her dear brother Oberyn in their concerns. She was Rhaegar’s wife, and she would provide a son and heir for her husband. Yet the princess was of weak physic and upon the birth of her second born child, and Rhaegar’s heir, the princess Elia passed from this world.** _
> 
> _**The prince, now in need of a new wife, was commanded by his lord father to choose from the great noble houses a new bride during a grand tourney to be held at Harrenhal. All the great houses from the Lannisters of Casterly rock to the Starks of Winterfell had been invited, and all would be in attendance. Be it ambition or duty they came to the summons for the tournament to see who would be named as the new princess of house Targaryen and the future queen of the kingdoms.** _
> 
> _**Over the next ten days the Whents would host and feast the cream of the crop in Westeros, parading the glory and splendor of their lands, and the magnificence of the tourney held here. The young Rhaegar was a sight to behold, tearing through the joust with no signs of stopping. Finally came the final round of the joust between the prince and his dear friend Ser Barristan Selmy. Prince Rhaegar claimed victory in the battle, and was bestowed a crown of blue winter roses, for which he was to present to the maiden of his choosing, who would be chosen as his wife. All gasped in shock to see the prince lay the crown upon the lap of the lady Lyanna Stark.** _

-XXX-

_Silence was never louder than when the prince spurred his horse around the field and brought it to a stop before Lyanna Stark and her brother Ned. When Rhaegar placed the crown gently upon the lady’s lap, it seemed as if all the sound from the world had disappeared save for the unmistakable sound of teeth grinding against one another coming from Robert Baratheon, Rhaegar’s cousin, and Lyanna’s betrothed. Lifting his helm the prince looked into Lyanna’s eyes:_

_“I proclaim you the queen of love and beauty lady Lyanna. The fairest and most noble of maidens, who has won my heart, with who I wish to spend the rest of my days with, as my wife.”_

-XXX-

 

> _**Needless to say Rhaegar’s choice brought with it its share of troubles. And despite the wishes of the Starks or Robert Baratheon, the decision was made. Lyanna’s betrothal to Robert would be set aside, and Lyanna would wed the prince Rhaegar. A month after the tourney Lyanna was sent from Winterfell to King’s landing with an envoy consisting of her father, brothers Ned and Benjen, and her father’s men. The wedding was a grand affair, no expense was waisted in this joyous of occasions. Upon the day of their wedding Lyanna was led into the sept of Baelor by her father to her waiting intended. It was said that Lyanna shone more beautifully than the Maiden herself.** _

_-XXX-_

_The great sept of Baelor was filled to the brim with the nobility of the seven kingdoms. All clamored around, awaiting their new princess to appear. Finally the doors to the sept opened and in walked Lyanna, escorted by her lord father, her family's cloak draped over her shoulders. Her gown a vision of white, she herself more so as she walked down the isle to her awaiting groom. Leaving the care of her father she reached out her hand to Rhaegar's already waiting one, holding tightly as both looked to the high septon._

_-XXX-_

 

> _**So before the old gods and the new, Lyanna and Rhaegar were wed and the she-wolf of the north became a princess of house Targaryen. By all accounts the marriage of Lyanna and Rhaegar was a wonderful affair. Rhaegar was enchanted by his northern princess, and Lyanna had come to love her dragon prince with a searing love to match that of any dragon. Both were much beloved by the small folk of King’s Landing, going out among the people with food and coin, and music, courtesy of the prince and his harp. It is said every night as the sun set, and before the coming of a new day that the people would pray for Aerys to pass on, so that Rhaegar and Lyanna would rule as their king and queen, instead of old King Scab.Then before long, Lyanna found that she was with child, her and Rhaegar’s first born babe.**_
> 
> _**-XXX-** _

_Lyanna sat next to the balcony of her apartments, humming a soft tune as she slowly stroked her swelling belly. Rhaegar soon joined her near the balcony, hkneeling before his pregnant wife as his arms encircled her, leaving his hands atop of hers. Few words passed between them as rhaegar pressed a kiss to the side of her head and she closed her eyes and smiled._

_"A boy...it will be a boy."_

-XXX-

 

> _**Unfortunately the joyous news was over shadowed by the storm that was brewing elsewhere. Robert’s rage had only grown from the moment Lyanna was taken from him and given to Rhaegar, and now it threatened to overflow into rebellion against the royals. To try and placate Robert, Lord Rickard Stark with his son Brandon rode for King’s Landing to seek an audience with the king. With his eldest son Brandon in tow, and a small handful of his best men, Lord Rickard Stark rode hard for King’s Landing, hoping to arrive and help stop a war from breaking out.** _
> 
> _**Unfortunately Aerys did not see Rickard Stark as peacemaker; instead he saw the man and his whelp as enemies come to seek their demands for Aerys to relinquish the throne to their Baratheon king. Aerys commanded their comrades executed, and put Lord Rickard and Brandon in chains.** _
> 
> _**For days the Princess Lyanna pleaded before Aerys to free her father and brother, hoping that there might yet still be reason to be found in the man. But no, Aerys was deaf to her pleas, hearing only the treasonous words of a northern bitch to save her conspirators. The only thing that saved Lyanna from sharing her father and brother’s fate was that of her husband’s protection. For mad as he may be, Aerys was not such the fool to test Rhaegar over punishing some stark bitch. So Aerys refused to touch her, muttering often that soon Rhaegar would see her true nature soon enough and that then the bitch would get what was deserved to enemies of the crown.** _
> 
> _**Finally Lord Rickard was brought before the court to plead for his and his son’s life before the king. Lyanna could only watch on in dread by her husband’s side as her father tried to get a mad man to see reason. It became overwhelmingly apparent that reason would not be found in his king; Lord Rickard called forth a trial by combat to clear his and his son’s innocence. Vowing to take on any challenger he chose, Lord Rickard begged the right to fight for their freedoms.** _
> 
> _**To Lyanna’s shock Aerys agreed…but joy would soon turn to horror as Aerys named fire for his champion. Suited up in his armor, and suspended over a fire, Lyanna cried out and fought against her husband’s hold to rush to aid her father. Aerys’ cruelty knew no bound as he commanded Brandon be brought in. A rope tied around his neck and tied to a column in the chamber, a sword was placed a little ways from him, and Aerys offered him the chance to save his father. What else could Brandon do but struggle to free himself so he could free his father?** _

-XXX-

_The screams of Lyanna filled the room along with those of her father, and the grunts of her brother. The people watched on at the spectacle, some in apprehension, others in pity, and others simply not knowing what else to do. Rhaegar held Lyanna strongly in his arms, despite his wife’s best attempts to escape his grasp._

_Lord Rickard’s screams were a haunting thing to hear as he cooked and baked over the flames. Aerys looked on with a sickening glee at the sight. His laughter at the suffering of the father and son, and secretly the daughter too, filled the throne room. People shed tears, whispered about the cruelty of the sight, others that the king surely had lost his mind._

_Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard watched with horror at the sight before him. Someone should help them. HE should help them. He WOULD help them. But when Jaime moved to act a strong hand grasped his shoulder. Jaime turned to see Ser Arthur Dayne shake his head sadly at the young boy. His eyes looked into the Sers’ and asked why? The Ser could only tell him:_

_“We serve the King. It is not out place to challenge his decisions, only to obey his wishes.”_

_A wretched truth, but a truth none the less, Jaime was forced to steel himself to his fellow Kingsguard’s words and witness this horror. But a voice within cried out to him that this was not right, that this was not what he wanted. If anything were to be proof of that, it would be the suffering on the princesses face as she watched those she loved slowly die._

-XXX-

 

 

 

> _**Lyanna screamed till her voice became hoarse, tears flowing freely as she begged her brother to stop, crying out that he was killing himself. Brandon was deaf to her pleas. Saving their father was all that mattered to him. So it was that Lyanna had to listen, as she dared not watch anymore, to her father being cooked alive in his armor, and her brother choke himself to death to free their father. Even long after their screams ended, and the laughter of the mad king died down she refused to remove her face from against Rhaegar’s chest.** _
> 
> _**Yet her suffering was not yet complete. Aerys commanded a raven be dispatched to the vale where Jon Arryn would be commanded to turn over her other brother Ned, and Robert Baratheon both to be executed for crimes against the crown. Lyanna lost all her strength then and fell into her husband’s arms, who proceeded to remove her from the throne room and to their apartments, Ser Arthur Dayne and Jaime Lannister poised to guard her and his children at all times.** _
> 
> _**Aerys’ crimes had reached all throughout, and from the vale the heralding cry of war was unleashed from Robert and Ned both. Together, along with Jon Arryn the three would raise their banners in rebellion against the iron throne. The time for fearing mad dragons was long past, now it was the time for Aerys to fear the Stag and the Wolf. Rebellion was in the air, and so help the gods, Aerys would be made to suffer for his crimes against the realm.** _
> 
> _**For months Robert’s rebellion raged, the combine forces of the Stormlands, The North, the Vale, and the Riverlands stood united against the forces of the royalists. With Ned’s marriage to his brother Brandon’s betrothed Catelyn and Jon Arryn’s marriage to her sister Lysa, cementing the riverlands to their cause, he and Robert lead a massive force into battle after battle, determination in their hearts and iron in their hands they set out to end the mad king’s reign, and to avenge those lost.** _
> 
> _**Aerys commanded his son and heir to lead the royal army massing at the capital against the rebels, with threats against his wife and children as unneeded incentives to motivate the prince into obeying. Armed with an army of forty thousand men from the crownlands, dorne, and those loyal to the crown, Rhaegar set off with three of his father’s Kingsguards, leaving the remainder to protect his wife and children. Rhaegar marched off to war alongside his dear friend Daeron Blackfyre and his loyal kingsguard knights to the battle that would decide the fate of the realm.** _
> 
> _**After many many weeks of marching the royals finally came to meet the rebel force at the trident. It was a song for the ages, the immortalization of those who would fight there at the Battle of the Trident. Rhaegar’s forty thousand men faced off against Robert’s thirty-five thousand men at the decisive battle of the rebellion. Brave men on both sides fought one another; many more would die in defense of their causes. Yet despite all of these deaths among enemies, they all cried out the same battle cry:** _
> 
> _**“For Westeros”** _
> 
> _**Rhaegar himself would find and clash against Robert Baratheon in a legendary duel amiong the battle raging around them. Both masters, they fought each other on even playing fields, neither one giving the other the edge. Robert raged at Lyanna’s fate of being forced to be bedded by him. Swearing all kinds of fury upon the dragons for all they had made his beloved endure. Rhaegar’s own rage grew at such words. What did Robert know of his Lyanna? Of her walks through their godswood, of her riding through the fields and forests outside of the capital, or of the sweet and tender side hidden by the fierce northern blood that ran through her. Robert Baratheon would never know Lyanna as he did, and he would never have her so long as he lived.** _
> 
> _**Rhaegar landed the first major wound upon Robert, and victory was at hand. Robert’s hammer away, his knee bent, Rhaegar stood above him, his sword posed to strike down, and in Lyanna and his children’s names, he roared as he brought his blade down.** _
> 
> _**Fate is unfortunately a cruel master, and Rhaegar’s victory was cut short when Daeron Blackfyre drove a spear into Rhaegar’s back. Taken aback by the sudden pain, the prince turned in shock to see his friend smirking maliciously at him as the sounds of Robert rising caused him to turn back. With Hammer in hand Robert raised his weapon high, and brought it down with thunderous strength, caving in rhaegar’s chest and slaying the dragon prince.** _
> 
> _**As the life slowly bled from him, Rhaegar watched as Blackfyre men turned upon royalist, killing without mercy. With the last of his breath he breathed out Lyanna’s name, and then Rhaegar Targaryen was no more.** _
> 
> _**When news of rhaegar’s death reached the capital Lyanna was beside herself with grief at the loss of her prince, her grief only matched by her step-children’s pain at losing their father too. Aerys’ reaction was more of a desperate final slight, as he ordered his pyromancers to begin stockpiling cashes of wildfire underneath the capital and the royal palace. Lyanna strongly objected to Aerys’ commands, even heavy with child the she-wolf refused to allow Aerys to do as he willed. Aerys was not keen on hearing the wailings of the wolf bitch, and struck her hard, forcing her to fall hard to the floor. Lyanna’s screams filled the throne room as Arthur, Oswell and Ser Gerold reached her. Seeing blood and water pooling at her legs the three knights hurried the princess back to her apartments.** _
> 
> _**A month after a rider came with news of Tywin Lannister’s army arriving at the gates of the city along with Daeron Blackfyre’s men. Daeron swore he had managed to rally the lion to fight with them to avenge their prince. Varys strongly urged the king not to listen to the blackfyre’s words; Jaime begged it of his king not to listen either, but at the council of Pycelle to heed the words of the young lord, and the promise of protection. So against all words of council, Aerys ordered that the gates of the city be opened, and thousands of men waving the lion and black dragon sacked the city without quarter.** _
> 
> _**It was not long before the invaders would reach the palace, and Aerys had no intention of allowing his old friend, and the spawn of a cursed house his throne, and so he ordered the wildfire caches ignited, and the capital set ablaze. But before that could happen Ser Jaime drew his blade, and struck down the pyromancer, then turned on his king.** _

-XXX-

_The sounds of what could have been mistaken as a squealing pig could be heard throughout the throne room. The unmistakable sounds of steel piercing flesh over and over again. The squealing grew less and less loud, and the sounds of stabbing slowly subsided to. Ser Jaime stood over Aery’s bleeding corpse, his white cloak and armor covered in blood and sweat. He gazed down upon his former king as the poor crazed bastard continued to fight to cling to life._

_As he was beginning to cease his struggles, Jaime listened intently as Aerys began repeating the same thing over and over and over again._

_“Burn them…all…burn them…in their houses…burn them in…the streets…burn…them…all.”_

_What little pity Jaime could have mustered up for Aerys was long since pissed away from him. Dragging from his belt a knife, he grasped Aerys head, and lifted it just high enough so he could slit his throat from ear to ear. The life pissed away from Aerys alongside his blood._

_Jaime stood from the floor, the world numb around him. Grasping his fallen sword, he walked up the steps towards the throne, and sat himself down upon it, the world around him non-existent as he sat there, a dead king lying before his feet._

-XXX-

 

> _**The Chaos of the sacking raged all around, eventually making its way to the Red Keep. At her command, the Lady Lyanna ordered her kingsguard knights to make their final stand to protect her and the three children. Dawning their white cloaks, the three readied themselves for their final stand in defense of the royal family. When the lions and dragons came they would find death awaiting them first before they could reach the princess and the children.** _
> 
> _**When Ned Stark and his army arrived at the capital they were in awe of the destruction laid bare before them. Riding through the streets they could see countless bodies of dead men, raped women, and the very stones of the city torn asunder from the rampage of the Lannister and Blackfyre men. Ned Bounded with great urgency as he sped off to the Red Keep, to his sister’s side.** _
> 
> _**Upon entering the Red Keep, Ned had raced through the royal palace until he came to the throne room, where sat Ser Jaime upon the iron throne, and Aerys dead at his feet. The sheer disgust and ire that Ned felt at the sight before him was only less than how he felt at the sight he found when he came upon his sister’s apartments. Blood, torn sheets, broken furniture, and more blood, all throughout the apartments was all that Ned could find. No sign of his sister, or of the children either.** _
> 
> _**Returning to the throne room after further searching of the castle proved fruitless Ned came upon the sight of Tywin Lannister having his men place before the feet of the iron throne, wrapped in red Lannister cloaks, the unmistakable form of children’s bodies. Ned was beside himself as Robert, from up on the throne, looked down at the sight before him. Though he would have liked to seen his friend’s expression, he could not stay his eyes from the sight. The small olive skinned arm of Rhaenys stood unmistakably from out under the cloak for all to see.** _
> 
> _**Ned, braving to do what no one else would, walked before the cloaked figures, and lifted the cloaks up to behold the most ghastly sight imaginable. The poor Rhaenys, her white night gown filled to the brim with stab wounds, blood turning the snow white night gown a deep red. One of the babes head was smashed in beyond recognition; one poor sot emptied his stomach off to the side at the sight. Yet despite these horrid sights, what pained Ned the most was the third victim. A babe but a moon old at least, a small wisp of black hair on his head, and the unmistakable knife wound pronounced apparent on the boys chest.** _
> 
> _**It was Lyanna’s babe, Ned knew without a doubt.** _
> 
> _**Ned look to his friend Robert and demanded to know if this was truly justice, the slaughter of these three babes, one Lyanna’s own. Robert scoff, but would not look Ned in his eyes as he call them Dragonspawn. Ned yelled in defense of Lyanna’s son. His flesh and his blood, his mother’s son, and demanded to know what the boy had done that he deserved to die!?** _
> 
> _**“He was the spawn of dragons. That is more than enough.”** _
> 
> _**Ned’s fury was boundless at Robert’s words. But before he allowed himself to give into the hate boiling within, Tywin Lannister spoke up, mentioning Lyanna’s name. Both Robert and Ned were eager to hear about Lyanna as Ned had been unable to fund her anywhere in all this carnage. Tywin’s face never once showed emotion as he reported on what had befallen Lyanna. About how in her grief at the deaths of the children, when his men went to take her into their custody she scratched out the eyes of one of his men, and ran to her balcony, where she flung herself from her rooms into the blackwater below. Her body was never found.** _
> 
> _**Whatever rage Ned may have held died out quickly, and only pain remained at the thought of his dear sister dead, drowning in the deep dark waters of the bay. Robert was beside himself, tears of true grief and loss spilling out. Whatever pain Ned felt, he knew his friend shared too. Despite what he thought of the Targaryens, Ned knew that Robert would have died before allowing any harm to come to Lyanna.** _
> 
> _**With the passing of Lyanna both friends would find their differences set aside in mutual grief at their loss. But despite all this, there was still a war to finish. So with his new King’s leave, Ned would ride out with their men, and bring an end to the remaining skirmishes that plagued the realm before he would return to Winterfell to fulfill his new duties to the realm as Warden of the North. It was strange truly. As Ned and his army rode from the capital to the stormlands he couldn’t help but think that their victory in this war was hollow. Aerys was dead, the Targaryen’s all but extinct save for the queen and her son hiding out on Dragonstone, Robert was now king, and the realm should be in safer hands. Yet why did Ned feel so empty?** _
> 
> _**He knew the answer. Had their victory brought back his father and brother? Had their victories saved his sister from her fate? No. No the journey back home after his battles would give him time to reflect on what little he had truly gained, and what he had lost. History would call the rebellion a grand act of revolution, Ned would call it what it truly was for him. An empty hollow victory that could never return to him what he had lost during this war.** _
> 
> _**Yet as is often the case with history…not everything is as it appears** _

-XXX-

_Down by the docks of king’s landing a small boat laid ready to sail. A man and a woman wrapped in black cloaks sat waiting for something, or someone, their impatience plain to see. The sounds of the sacking were all around them, they could see the fires popping up from various corners of the capital. Fortunately for them that the Lannister men had not yet made their way over here, very fortunate indeed. The man’s patience was at its end and was about to make ready to sail off, when a new figure dressed in black appeared onto the dock. Walking swiftly with a torch in one hand, and a bundle in the other the stranger quickly made his way to the duo._

_The woman reached her arms up and the stranger handed the bundle over to her. Gently holding it, she removed the cloth to reveal a sleeping babe underneath, a babe with a wisp of dark hair._

_Rocking the babe gently the woman looked to the man who nodded and began to untie the ropes to the boat before he was stopped. The stranger held his torch closer so the man could see his face clear as day. He was a plump man with a pale complexion, devoid of hair, and a rather effeminate look to him._

_“Now remember, row hard and swiftly. The chaos of the sacking provides you a small window for escape. A ship will await you both a ways out into the bay and from there will take you on to Essos. Make for Pentos where you will seek out Illyrio Mopatis. My friend will take it from there.”_

_He tossed the couple a rather large pouch filled with gold dragons._

_“That should accommodate you for your troubles and expenses for afterwards, but remember, the boy MUST be safe. If he is lost then so are we all.”_

_The couple shook their heads in acknowledgement, and pushes off from the dock. The stranger threw his torch into the water and swiftly disappeared into the night as the small boat rowed into the night and out to the water, the image of a burning city behind them. As they rowed onward, the babe awoke slightly, its dark grey eyes blinking at the sight before it; a city in chaos, in flames, and in danger forever burned into the infants eyes. It would be many many years before this child would return to the city, and when he would he would be a grown man. A man who will become central in the war that is to come, not only for the sake of the realm, but for the very world itself._

-XXX-

20 Years Later

Ghoyan Drohe

The Remains of what had once been a prosperous city now lay dead like an open wound on the land. The land itself that was once lush and green with flowing rivers was now a barren wasteland, a shell of its former glory. And right now it served as the battleground of two armed companies of soldiers.

Throughout the ruined city men clashed, arrows flew; blood was split as the battle raged all around. The two companies fought hard against one another, neither one giving an inch to the enemy. On the one hand you had the forces of the Windblown sellsword company. An infamous group of mercenaries led by their withered leader self-styled the “Tattered Prince”. A considerate force of roughly two-thousand men mounted horses and foot soldiers, the Windblown Company were an old and respected company, as fierce at their old general, proud warriors who's fame was well known, and well earned. And now currently in the employ of Pentos.

On the other side of the battle stood another company of sellswords opposite of the Windblown in their battle. Recognized by their banner of three red swords crossing one another on a white banner stood the second most renowned company of sellswords in all of Essos; The Company of Brave Swords. A fierce and well-disciplined group of warriors, they stood proudly at five-thousand men strong, mounted horsemen, longbows, heavy fighters, heavy mounted Calvary, and a strong infantry to bring up the rear. The company itself was broken up into five different smaller companies, each one under the direct command of one of their commanders.

The First Company stood the vanguard, the bravest and most skilled, save for the company leaders themselves, in their entire army. They themselves were led by the greatest of the entire company, the captain-general, Caius the Wyvern Lord. A self-made warrior, feared from Braavos all the way to Volantis, and even further, Caius once fought as a knight of the crownlands long long ago. But his distaste for the cruelty of the king brought him into conflict with his vows and his own sense of honor. So he fled, refusing to be a knight that would serve a mad man, he arrived in essos, and would found one of the most powerful companies ever contracted. He has led the Brave Swords for more than twenty glorious years, with an incredible record of near no defeats in combat. Loyal and brave, Caius would rather lead his men into the abyss then send men off to die a losing battle he knew they would not win. As surely as he would give his life for any of his men, his men all would surely die for the sake of their general. Now while most leaders would rather stay strategically at a safer position, Caius leads his men into battle, refusing behind others like a child hiding behind the skirts of his mother.

Among the thousands under him there stood only four others considered his equals among their brotherhood. The closest of the four to their leader was the commander of the second company and their master bowman, Kazim. Kazim led the second company of the Brave swords, the smallest, but most flexible of the company divisions, consisting of five-hundred of the most skilled archers in all of Essos. Kazim himself having been praised as being the most skilled archer in the known world from the north all the way to Volantis in Essos. Kazim’s humility and sense of duty never gave him much cause to allow these claims to go to his head. Of all the commanders he was surely the calmest and serious, save for their leader Caius himself.

The Third Company was their heavy fighters. Mounted Calvary, heavy weaponry, all led by the biggest and most noble of brutes you’d ever find on this side of the world. The one they called Durand the Ox-Rider. Durand was but a simple farmer living in the crownlands long before he ever step foot in Essos. Durand claimed he ran afoul of some lord when he found him bedding his young wife. Durand was challenged to combat, and would quickly end up killing the old lord. To be fair Durand was said to have the strength of ten oxes and was never one for restraint. So to avoid his head being cut off by the old Lord’s son, he hopped on a boat and found himself in Braavos, where he drank and brawled all the live long day. Until he came to meet Kazim and Caius one fine day after clearing out a tavern of drunks, he himself being the drunkest of them all. Rather than aimlessly throw his powerful fists around Caius offered him direction and a purpose for fighting rather than picking a fight for no apparent reason. Durand is a respect man, loved by his brothers, and trusted by his fellow commanders.

Forth Company was directed by a quiet man called Luthor. Luthor was born a slave, and raised to be a fighter since the day he was able to hold a sword. Tall, swift, and strong, Luthor was a fierce champion, hosted at many of the great arenas in the great slave cities in Slaver’s Bay. Even more amazing was the fact that even as a slave, Luthor had self-educated himself during his years as a slave. He taught himself to write, to read, to think strategy, a good reason as to why he had lasted so long in the games. A man of twenty-five, he was discovered by Caius and Kazim while they were contracted to Mereen some years ago. His talent wasted here fighting for the entertainment of the slave-masters, and flesh peddlers, Caius forgo payment for his and his men’s service on the condition that the masters award him Luthor to his company of Brave Swords; the masters happily agreed to the terms of the sellsword. Quick of mind as he was with his spear, Luthor’s strategies have led the company to many a great victor over the course of his fifteen years as a part of their company.

As for the final commander, the youngest and newest commander of their company, he was well known and respected in the brotherhood. A young and fierce warrior by the name of…

“JON BEHIND YOU!!”

A dark haired young quickly turned his head at the call to quickly raise his sword to block another’s blade aimed for his head. Pressing back against his opponent, Jon found the momentum needed and landed a solid kick to his enemy, sending the poor fool onto his back, and giving Jon enough time to slide down next to the man and drive his sword into his chest.

Jon, a young man of twenty years stood proudly in the midst of the battlefield, his dark armor scratched and dented here and there, while the red leather he wore underneath was lighter and darker here and there, partly from wear, partly from the blood of his enemies staining the leather. His neck length black hair was an unruly mess in no small part to all the fighting around him and his fellow brave swords., his sword gleaming in the sunlight, reflecting sunlight, and dripping enemy blood.

Withdrawing his blade, he reached behind him to draw out his second short blade and used it to defend against a charging opponent, parrying his sword to slice through his neck with his other. Jon began cutting his way through the enemy numbers, the ruins of the city making for a wild battlefield, albeit one that provided strong cover for him and his men. Making use of the surrounding ruin walls, and archways, Jon parried and averted swords and spears aimed at him, closing in to his enemies and slicing their throats, running them through with his sword, and in one case, throwing his sword sword, and embedding it in the head of a charging soldier. Two more enemy soldiers tried pincering Jon in, their long spears poised to his front and back; their shields set to defend themselves from the young commander. But as Jon readied himself for their assault they were surprised as one of them was sent flying into an old worn down stone wall, compliments of the hulking giant of a man with the huge war hammer pressed in his hands. Jon made quick work of the second enemy soldier, disarming him, and then stabbing him through his throat; he looked to his savior and grinned.

“I could have handled him you know Durand?”

The hulking man, now identified as Durand let out a thundering laugh. The man stood at least a head and a half taller than Jon. His head of Black hair slicked back, his beard trimmed and cut into a fine styled goat-tee. His large silver breastplate adorned both intricate designs of an Ox, and also was home to many battle scars and dents accumulated over the course of a long time of battling. His arms were bare, save for his wrist armor, and greaves for his legs that hid his black trousers. Resting soundly in both of his hands was a mighty war-hammer that Durand has so self-named ‘Bianca.’

“Apologies Jon, but every time one of these whores sees me coming they turn tail and run. How the fuck am I supposed to have any fun otherwise huh wolf?”

Jon grinned at his large friend before charging back into the fray, his large friend following behind him.The two threw themselves into the fray, Jon's swords clashing against others, Durand mowing down others with his hammer. Grabbing one poor soul, Durand raised him up by his neck and smashed his face against a stone wall over and over until the poor man's face was mush. A brave or stupid fool worked up the courage to drive a dagger into Durand's side. Hissing in pain, the Goliath looked to his side, and yanked the dagger from it's place. Looking to the enemy soldier with a look of annoyance, the smaller man hurried to turn and run, only to run face first into Jon's awaiting sword. Pulling his blade free from the man's face, Jon nodded his head to Durand who return in kind as they raced to rejoin their men during the battle.

The combine forces of the third and fifth companies rained down their might upon their enemies. Durand's heavy weapon fighters pushed and pushed against the enemy, bashing in skulls, running through with spears, giving as good and they took from the enemy. Jon and his forces tore a straight and true path through the enemy numbers. Jon found his men being spread thin after a resurgence of the enemy's numbers, he found himself staring down three enemies. Fighting fiercely for his life Jon was sliced clean on his cheek from an unblocked blade, and then struck with the butt of a sword to his jaw, discombobulating Jon for a moment. Jon had a moment to ready himself for his enemy when suddenly a white blur tackled his opponent, and blood began spraying out into the air. Jon smiled to see the familiar sight of a particularly large albino direwolf.

"Ghost, thank the gods for you old friend."

The wolf's eyes gleamed red before it threw itself back into the fray, digging into another throat. Jon following suit and rallying his men to him and leading a charge.

Their forces had begun to route the enemy out of the ruined city in droves. Jon’s fifth company men and Durand’s third company hollered in delight as they gave chase to the retreating Windblown company. Jon and Durand both called to their men to hold their pursuit off, instead ordering them to form ranks and ensure the Windblown company could not retreat back their way. Once the men had snapped quickly into formation with one another, Jon looked to Durand and gave him a nod. The giant smiled and reached behind him to grasp a small horn and give it a hard blow. A minute passed by before another horn blew, and Jon and Durand both grinned.

The retreating enemy forces didn’t know what hit them. As soon as they scrambled to the velvet hills they soon came under heavy arrow fire. Unseen and unheard, the silent arrows struck down upon them. From on the Velvet hills Kazim and his archers rained down arrows with precision and speed. Kazim was a tall, fit man along in his late thirties to early forties, olive skin of Dorne, jet black hair longer then Jon’s own pulled back and tied off into a long pony tail that reached down to the mid of his back. Draped in black silks and clothing with bare minimum armor to protect his vital areas, Kazim appeared more like a shadow then a soldier, but better their shadow then the enemies Jon had always thought.

The enemy began to break ranks. Some tried fleeing back to the ruins of the city, where Jon and Durand’s forces awaited them, and others scattered away from both the hills and the city, opting for the dead forest for protection. This also proved to be a futile endeavor as well. On mounted horses came the first and forth companies, Caius and Luthor both leading the charge with their two-thousand men. Luthor was dark of skin, dark as a shadow; his head devoid of any hair, the only distinguishable mark on him were the claw mark scars on the side of his head. Clad in a reddish amber armor, greaves and spaulders, wrist and knee braces too. His long spear in hand, and the reigns in his other, he looked a fierce sight to see.

But he still paled in comparison to their commander. Late forties to early fifties, his hair still shaded black and neatly trimmed back to keep any hair from his eyes, or from distraction in battle. Dawned in head to toe in a dark armor with a deep blue leather underneath for further protection, his great bastard sword, the Wyvern’s fang as he so named it, drawn out and raised high before being poised ahead at their enemy. His expression devoid of any and all emotion, but his eyes were alight with the battle ahead.

Their forces surrounding them, Jon heard a horn blow twice from Caius’ group, and knew it to be a signal. Shouting a few quick orders, Durand and Jon began to slowly lead their men out after the retreating enemies. Kazim and his archers followed suit, until the Windblown found itself surrounded on all sides by brave men wielding brave swords. Caius raised a hand to stop the march of his troops, Jon and the others following suit, but their weapons poised and ready to strike at a second’s notice. Caius spurred his horse forward, and began to encircle the remains of the enemy host. Looking directly to the Tattered Prince, atop his proud mare, Caius laid out his demands.

“You have fought hard soldiers of the Windblown. For this and many months you have given me and my brothers a good fight, but as in all warfare, there must eventually be a winner in every outcome.”

The Brave Swords grave a celebratory howl at this, Caius raised his hand to quickly silence them.

“There has been enough bloodshed today, let it end here. Your contract with the city of Pentos ends in failure I’m afraid. So you shall leave here alive and report back your defeat to your clients, and as payment for your lives you shall leave behind your swords, armor, and horses, save yours Prince.”

The leader of the Windblown was beside himself. As a warrior defeat was his only shame, yet there was no sense to be had in fighting impossible odds. So reluctantly the aged general agreed, and one by one his remaining men gave up their swords, armor and horses, and followed after their leader as they walked in disgrace from the battlefield.

As their enemies left in shame, the Brave Swords raised their blades in the air in victory, shouting praise to their General, to their commanders, and to each other. Caius rode through the ranks, nodding and seeing to all his men. Once the cheering had died down He called his commanders forth to him.

“See to our wounded, inventory the new weapons, armor, and horses to our stocks, and prepare a proper funeral for our fallen. Once that is all taken care of, make ready for departure, we ride for Braavos.”

Grins and smiles filled his commanders, and a cheer went through their ranks as they cheered on to their victory, and cheered on to their imminent return to Braavos.

Jon stood there, his excitement tempered by his cool and calm nature, but could not help but feel the excitement in the air at another hard won victory. A well-deserved one to be sure, but despite all the cheer in the air, Jon’s mind began to drift to other thoughts, other matters he needed to attend to once he was back in Braavos.

“I’ll be there soon. I promise.”

-XXX-

A Month later

Braavos

The great free city of Braavos, founded in defiance of the Valyrian freehold by former slaves some five-hundred or so years ago. Located in a lagoon on the northwestern end of Essos, where the narrow sea and the Shivering Sea meet the greatest of all the free cities stands proudly.

Home to the Iron Bank, to the House of Black and White, to the Courtesans whose beauty inspires a thousand songs, and more pressingly, the home to the Company of Brave Swords.

If you were to seek out the biggest and most expensive tavern in all of Braavos you would find the company of Brave Swords celebrating yet another hard worn victory at the Inn of the Green Eel. Drinking the finest wines they had to offer, dining on the most exquisite of delicacies you could imagine, and enjoying the most splendid of company that Braavos has to offer, oh what a night for celebrating. The feasting was still in its infancy when the commanders joined in the merriment with their men. Durand began drinking ale after ale of Braavosi’s best, while enjoying the company of two extraordinary women. Caius and Kazim had unfortunately had to skip out on the celebration due to pressing concerns that needed to be addressed with the Sealord. Luthor, Durand and Jon were left to feast with their men in celebration of their accomplished victory over the now disgruntled and broken Windblown Company.

Alone in the corner of the Tavern, Jon silently drank his wine. The cheer was infectious, and he was more then happy for his men. And yet coming to Braavos always sullied Jon’s mood considerably. Watching brothers drink one another under the table, not to mention ghost being pampered and loved on by some of the women tending to the men. Jon let out a small laugh before he downed the rest of his cup and grabbed his cloak before making for the door.

“JON! WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOUR GOING WOLF!?”

Jon stopped in his tracks to see Durand approaching him with two VERY beautiful women on his arms.

“Jon my friend, you must come and meet my new friends.” Durand leered at the red head on his right. “This vixen right here is Felicia,” then he looked to the blonde on his left, “And this one is Malia.” He loosened their hands from his arms, and moved his hands till they came to rest on their asses. The girls gave an excited squeal as Durand copped a feel.

“The offer is most tempting my friend, but I am afraid that I have some pressing matters I need to attend to.”

“Ah fuck! What could you possibly have to do that is more important than some Braavosi wine, mouth-watering food, and the company of these two goddesses?”

Jon looked at Durand, his expression solemn and hard, “I have business with Gendry at his shop. Need some repairs done on my swords. Then I’m going to pay a visit to the house.”

Durand’s mood sobered up quickly at that last part. Reluctantly, but without complaint he shooed the girls away to speak with Jon privately.

“You don’t have to go. None of us have forgotten what happened, yet you persist on tormenting yourself every time we come back. Why Jon? Why put yourself through all of this?”

“Because I need to remember Durand, I can never forget what happened. Strange enough as it is, remembering is what helps me move on in life. Every time I go there, every time I am reminded of what happened, what I was powerless to do, and it fills me with resolution to stay alive. To stay alive until I find him, that was the promise I made.”

Durand said nothing, but only let out a sigh and clapped a hand on his young friend’s shoulder.

“Then take care my friend, and send my best yeah?”

Jon nodded, and then turned and exited the establishment, throwing on his hood as he stepped out into the rain, and continued down the deserted streets of Braavos.

Durand watched him disappear down the street, a somber mood replacing his formerly joyous one. He quickly found himself being joined by Luthor, who passed his friend a wineskin to drink. Accepting with thanks, Durand chugged down half of it in a couple of gulps.

“He’s going to the house.”

“I know.”

Duraand let out another sigh and chugged down the rest of the wine with a few more gulps. After finishing it he tossed the wineskin to the ground before turning to his comrade.

“He keeps punishing himself every time he goes there. I know he can’t forgive himself for what happened, but repeatedly reminding himself every time we come back here isn’t a healthy habit either.”

“What Jon chooses to do or not do is all up to him Durand,” Luthor looked down the road Jon walked as the rain began to pour down harder. “Jon is a man, he is free to make his own choices, so leave him be and let us return to join our brothers.”

Durand showed no response for a moment before a laugh slipped from his mouth and he followed Luthor back into the tavern. But still, his mind did not stop worrying for his young friend. If there were such things as gods, Durand prayed they would help Jon find a modicum of peace in his otherwise turbulent mind.

-XXX-

Elsewhere in Braavoss

If you were to leave the Inn of the Green Eel and travel down past the Mummur’s ship, just before you were to reach Happy Port you could find a small blacksmith shop neatly tucked away in the background. The smith, one Gendry by name, was a well-liked and well trained smith of his trade, and a dear friend of Jon's. Many times over he had serviced the Brave Swords, providing them with high quality armor, swords, arrows, and without a doubt some of the most efficient repair work on all of the free cities. Gendry had named a friend by Jon over four years ago after the young smith managed to open up a ship all to his own, with some help from his dear friend. Being of a similar age, both Jon and Gendry became fast friends over the years they knew each other. It was here that Jon found himself at during this gods-forsaken thunderstorm. Letting himself in Jon knocked on the front counter of the room, the sound of shuffling in the back catching his ears. A moment later a tall strapping young man with coal black hair and a slight beard come from the back room to greet Jon.

“Jon, it is good to see you my friend!”

“Likewise Gendry,” Jon smiled and embraced his friend tightly for a moment before letting go.

“So tell me, what can I do for you?”

Jon grabbed from behind both of his short swords and handed them to Gendry with care. “It would seem that they have taken some extensive damage in the last campaign. I’d be much appreciative if you could give them a go around once.” Then he pulled a large sack he had at his feet and gently placed the sack on the counter; untying it to reveal his armor. "And I need you to give this a once over too."

Gendry held the swords firmly in his graps. Taking a few steps back he swung them about, testing them for himself. After a moment of so of silence he placed both on his workbench near the back before walking back over to Jon. Picking up the breastplate he carefully inspected the damages, then the other pieces before putting them back down.

“Shouldn’t take more than a day; Have them ready for you by then. My standard rates of course.”

Jon nodded his head and shook Gendry’s hand in a firm grip. As Jon put back up the hood to his cloak and walked toward the door Gendry called out to him. “By the by, I was meaning to ask you, but the new armor, how did it hold up?”

“It was everything you promised and more. Light enough for mobility, and strong enough to protect me from most any enemy weapon.”

Nodding his head in understanding, Gendry gave a short wave to Jon before he picked up the two swords and the sack filled with armor, and walked into the back room to get started on his work. Once outside Jon looked to see the still dark clouds overhead, and the rain’s continual downpour. Securing his cloak he continued onward down the road. A million thoughts ran through his head as he wandered aimlessly through the streets. The rain seemed to be coming down harder than before, it was getting hard to even see what was right in front of him. But as he continued his trek, memories began to filter in through the storm of thoughts plaguing his head. Memories of blood, of screams, of steel, and of hot searing hatred filled his mind, pushing out all other thoughts as the memories began to dominate.

He could not help but feel as though the storm reflected the state of his mind to a tee. The storm raging around him well represented his own mind, so uncontrollable and strong. Jon had to stop for a moment and lean against a wall as he caught his breathe. The torrent of thoughts began to subside as a new memory floated to the surface. A young man lay with a woman under an oak tree beside a cascading waterfall. Holding her close to him, the woman raised her head from his chest and looked to him with her chocolate brown eyes.

“I will love you, now and always.”

Jon’s eyes snapped open as he was jarred from his reminiscing. The storm had finally subsided, and the clouds were beginning to clear. Pushing himself off the wall Jon continued down the streets at a slightly slower pace now. That memory always seemed to pop up when Jon’s mind was clouded. He smiled slightly as he came to a stop at last before a small house. It was nothing special; save for the bright red coloring the door was painted. Jon approached and knocked gently three times. A moment or two passed before the door opened, and a kindly old woman greeted him. Shaking his hand gently she stepped aside and welcomed Jon inside, closing the door behind him without a sound.


	2. The Contract: The Brave Swords of the Dragon Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brave Swords take on a new contract, one that will change their lives forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time coming, but I am back. I would apologize to everyone, but many things have happened since chapter 1 and now. But the important thing is I am back, and we will be seeing a lot more chapters at a lot quicker pace..I pray.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Nothing but my own OC's and the plot of this story. Everything else belong to old King George
> 
> Note: Italics are used for either internal dialogue, or speaking in a different language from the common tongue

_**xXx** _

The Next Morning

Morning came and went, and Jon found himself wandering the streets of Braavos once again. Leaving the house with the red door, Jon made his way back up the streets towards the inn where his comrades were celebrating the night before. He laughed as the image of his friends all sprawled out among the tavern, faces downed in their mugs, asleep on tables and the floor, and most assuredly his friend Durand would be found face first between the legs of a beautiful young woman. A smile a mile wide formed as Jon thought of his friends. Ten years of his life he had spent as part of this company of brave warriors, ten remarkable years filled with both joy and sorrow in equal measures.

Marching down the street he saw the people of Braavos going about their businesses, some pushing carts down to the docks, others selling their goods from their shops or from the corners of the streets. Cutting across the bridge near the murmur’s ship Jon veered from the fountain in the square before him and hurried his pace as he neared the house of Black and White. For as long as he could remember he had been warned by all his brothers that under no circumstances must he ever cross the paths of the faceless men. Claiming to run afoul of them you risk being consumed by the darkness, and having your very identity stolen by them, to be used for their own ends.

Superstition Jon always assumed.

After he was clear of the house of Black and White, Jon slowed down his pace again, allowing him to take in the sights before him. As he was about to turn to his left and cross another bridge he spotted a large crowd of people gathering nearby. Curiosity getting the better of him, Jon walked over to see what everyone was gathering about for. As he neared them he began to hear the unmistakable sound of a high valyrian dialect. Unable to see closer towards the center, Jon chose instead to climb swiftly up a nice tall tree nearby, allowing him a better line of sight for what was happening.

The first thing Jon took note of was that it was a woman who was at the center of the crowd atop a small crate. Then next thing he took note of was her fire red garbs, a clear sign to Jon that this woman was a follower of the faith of Rhollor. Come to think of it, their fire temple was nearby if Jon remembered correctly. He raven black hair cascaded down her back, matching her obsidian eyes. Durand would have said that she had hair that was meant to fly everywhere…whatever that meant.

Hushing himself Jon listened as the priestess began to speak to all present in high valyrian.

_“The Lord of Light watches over all of you my brothers and sisters. Our lord loves us all, and protects us all.”_

Jon had no idea why she was speaking in high vlayrian here with all these common people. He doubted that besides himself and maybe two others out of this crowd he bet could even understand what she had said. Then as if answering his question she switched to the common tongue.

“My brothers and sisters, we come here together to celebrate the one true god, our lord of light. From out of the great darkness his light shone, showing us the way to free ourselves from the darkness of our lives. Even now he watches over all of you, knows what the future has in store for you, and is preparing you all for whatever destiny awaits you.”

The people listened intently, some whispering to themselves at her words, others not entirely convinced by what she was selling. Jon fell into the category of uninterested. Who cared about the future, or destiny, or even gods for that matter? As if sensing his doubt the red priestess turned from her flock to look to Jon up in his tree. She unnerved Jon greatly; it was as if she was looking into his very soul. Having enough of her stare Jon hopped down from his place in the tree back down to the ground and continued on his way back to the inn.

Having arrived a short time later Jon came upon the ungodly sight of the tavern in a total state of disarray, and his comrades scattered all throughout the inn. Dozens upon dozens of men slept scattered all around, empty pints in hand, they stretched along counters and tables and the floor even. As he walked further in Jon caught ghost in his sight, passed asleep as well, a young barmaid pressed against his fur like it were a feather pillow.

As Jon reached the stairs to the second floor of the inn he looked to the back corner and had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Durand, passed asleep on top of a table. His friends from last night both passed out on top of him, with one’s head between his legs and his face between the other’s legs. Predictable Durand, can’t enjoy a party without a couple of beautiful women between his legs.

As Jon climbed to the second floor he took note that only a select few of the men were up there, and he had yet to see Luthor anywhere. Chances are he has left last night and sought a much quieter place to rest for the night rather than try and wait out the partying of his comrades. Finding a still intact table Jon pulled himself up a seat and sat down as the innkeeper came shortly up the stairs and over to Jon.

“Bread, fish, bacon, and milk to wash it down please,” The innkeeper nodded silently and quietly hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. As Jon sat there be began thinking over last night. His visit to the house with the red door had been as it usually was, silent and uneventful…sad part being he wouldn’t be sure that an exciting visit would be a good thing either. As he sat there alone with his thoughts a shadow came to rest in front of him. Breaking from his train of thoughts Jon looked up to see a slightly tall, and more than slightly plump man stand before him.

“Pardon my interrupting you sir, but would you ever so mind if I were to join you, I absolutely despise eating alone.”

Jon took the man in quickly. He dressed in dark garbs, grey here and there, tattered shoes, worn leather gloves, if Jon had to name this man he would swear that he was a mummer. He definitely had the air of a performer about him. Then there was his face. The man was bald, completely devoid of any hair, but it was the fact that Jon could not see his face was what caught his attention. Now normally Jon would have put his blade to the table and politely, but threatening all the same, told him to find someplace else to sit…but for some reason he could not explain Jon felt urged to allow him to sit. So a brief nod to his mysterious guest the man to take his seat across from Jon. Not a moment later the Innkeeper tottered over with a tray carrying Jon’s food and drink for him. Handing off the tray over to Jon the innkeeper was about to walk off when Jon’s new friend spoke.

“Excuse me sir, but might I trouble you for the same as my friend here?”

The innkeeper nodded and took off downstairs. Paying his guest no mind, Jon began eating his breakfast…or was it his lunch? Anyways Jon began cutting his fish, and tearing into his bacon afterwards. A fast eater, Jon chased his food down with some of his milk, washing away any that might have remained lodged in his throat. Continuing his eating, Jon noticed that his guest had yet to take his eyes off of him. To Jon he looked like he was sizing him up, but for what he had no clue. Swallowing his food Jon took another large chug from his glass before setting it down and putting his tray to the side. Jon was looking right at his strange new friend now.

“Is there anything I could help you with? And don’t give me that I don’t like eating alone shit. There is something very unnerving about you ‘friend,’ and I don’t like it.”

The man absorbed what Jon had said to him before a small smile graced his lips.

“I suppose there might be. Permit me a question or two of you if I may good sir?”

Jon took another swig of his drink before answering, “You have two.”

The stranger nodded and furrowed his brow in thought. He did not speak for a minute or two before finally speaking. “Who are you?”

The question caught Jon off guard for a moment. Quickly he replied back, “I am Jon of the company of Brave Swords.”

“...Is that all you are?”

“Yes…what else is there?”

“Well perhaps you might want to start with who else you are besides just Jon. Have you no family name? Are you a bastard, are you from here in Essos, do you have any family left? Where do you come from?”

Jon swallowed uncomfortably as he listened to the stranger ask questions Jon had long ago tried to forget. Even as a young boy raised in Pentos he knew that the people taking care of him were not his parents. They never called him son, never acted like parents would he imagined, and only ever called him Jon. For that matter they didn’t even look like him. Jon had never truly given much thought, or perhaps he didn’t like to give much thought on where he came from. Who the people were, who his parents were, if they loved him, and if they were still alive. Jon had always assumed his parents were dead, I mean, what other reason could explain why they were not around. Well there were others…but Jon never liked to think on those.

“Those were more than two questions.”

“Not at all, it was one question I asked, but everything else that followed was reiterating my question to you. Who are you really?”

Jon didn’t reply. Who in the seven hells was this man, and why the fuck was he asking Jon all these random questions huh? I mean this was definitely the last thing he has expected to be happening to him this morning.

“My name is Jon, my home is the Company of Brave swords, my compatriots are my family, my brothers…and that is all I need to know.” The finality on Jon’s voice could not be missed. Nodding his head to Jon’s reply he looked at the young man and looked him over once more. Jon was becoming irritated that could be plainly seen, so he decided not to drag things out and asked his second question.

“Very well Jon, if that is who you say you are. Now answer me this…if the opportunity presented itself to you...would you like to know more about yourself, such as where you come from, or who you could really be?”

Ok this was getting weird. If the first question had made Jon uncomfortable then this one has him freaking out. Before Jon could speak the stranger spoke once more, “Sometimes when a man goes looking for who he is, he often times more than not finds nothing. However the same can be true that a man who isn’t seeking answers may end up discovering some he didn’t know he was looking for.”

Standing from the table Jon’s stranger gave him some parting last words before he left.

“Some men spend their entire lives content with what they think they know about themselves, others are drawn to know more about what they do not know. Tell me Jon, are you content with what you know about yourself?”

He was speechless, confused, upset, confused more, and angry to boot at the man’s words. Without another word he placed a small pouch on the table and walked off down the stairs and out of the inn. Jon sat there a moment longer as he digested all that had been said; not speaking even when the innkeeper arrived with the stranger’s food. The innkeeper looked to the young sellsword with outstretched hand.

“Your friend said you’d handle the costs for his meal.”

Jon took a second to look at the inn keeper and let out a chuckle of disbelief before reaching into his pouch and placing some coins on the food tray.

“GOOOOOOOD MORNING YOU WASTEROUS PILES OF PUSS, PISS AND SHIT! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING IT IS TO WAKE UP WITH A HANGOVER!”

Jon stood from his seat and walked over to the balcony to stare down at a brown haired man dressed in common clothing; pants and boots of brown, and a shirt of white with a red bandana wrapped around his bicep. Some of the other men had begun to awaken at his intrusion. But when it was apparent that he had not awoken all of his comrades he decided a change in tactics was in order

“Fine…have it your way…A BEAR A BEAR THERE WAS A BEAR…!!” His voice booming and echoing, one by one the men awoke from their slumbers groaning at the noise he was making. “OH COME HE SAID OH COME LET'S HEAR, THE BEAR THE BEAR AND THE MAIDEN FAIR!!”

A loud clanging sound, and the sound of women squealing was heard from in the back, Jon looked down to watch Durand walk from the back who promptly threw an ale at the singing man.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP HILARIUS!!”

The now named Hilarius tilted his head and avoided the flying mug directed at his head. “And a good morning to you to Durand old buddy old pal. You seem as charming as always in the morning I see.”

The hulking third company leader growled and reached for the nearest object, but was stopped by Jon who appeared beside him and grabbed his wrist before he could. One by one the rest of the men awoke, groaning and stretching out their tense muscles from a night of sleeping all sprawled out in the inn. Jon and Durand approached Hilarius as he saluted them mockingly.

“Good morning oh captains my captains, how were your evenings last night, dream of a mountain of women again Durand sir!?”

Hilarius, one of Jon’s sergeants. In all his years serving with the Brave Swords Jon had never met a sellsword quite like Hilarius. The man could just as easily kill a man with his mouth as he could his sword. A fool with a blade, that’s how Jon had always thought of Hilarius; but a fool he’d rather have on his side then against him.

Durand never found Hilarius funny, and certainly not now. “You had better have a reason for waking us with that God awful excuse for singing, or else I swear you’ll dream the never ending dream!”

“Durand, you wound me. You believe I would awaken you from your maiden sleep were it not important?”

“Yes,” Jon and Durand echoed together. Hilarius frowned but nodded his head

“Well that being the case Lord Caius has tasked me with retrieving the two of you and escorting you both to the harbor.”

Now this intrigued Jon and Durand. “The Harbor, what awaits us there?”

“Caius and the other commanders of course. Apparently there’s a new client awaiting you all there, and Caius wants all his commanders present.”

The wolf and the goliath looked to one another before nodding. A quick whistle brought ghost to Jon’s side, the three quickly took off towards the harbor.

“Ah Braavos, the only place in the world where you get screwed over by not only one church; but several all at once, gods what a wonderful place to live! I mean honestly if it wasn’t the sinking parts of the city, it’s the overcompensating giant statue at the entrance to the cove. It might just be me, but you think they are trying to say something?”

Hilarius just kept on talking and talking as they walked towards the harbor. Poor ghost looked like he was suffering from the sellswords constant banter. Jon patted the top of his direwolf’s head as if to try and comfort him and assure him he was suffering as well.

“And don’t get me started on the house of black and white, I mean really, who names their place of business the house of Black and White and then LITERALLY paints half of the door black, and the other WHITE!? I know an architect in Pentos who would bash his head in in frustration at the very sight of it.”

“Dead GODS Hilarius do you ever shut UP!?”

“No, not while I’m awake.”

Jon stifled a laugh as they neared the harbor where a boat awaited them docked nearby.

“You know Hilarius in another life you would have made a proper fool,” Jon commented as they approached the ship.

“As you a proper whore in another life ser,” Hilarius came to a stop alongside of ghost, and they side stepped to allow Jon and Durand to walk onto the ship and saluted as they cast off from the docks.

**_-XXX-_ **

As soon as they were on the deck of the ship the lines were untied, the gangplank raised, and the boat began floating in the harbor. The ship’s captain escorted them down below to a large cabin where Caius, Kazim, and Luthor awaited them. After greeting their brothers briefly they took note of the other person in the cabin with them. Across from their fellow commanders sat a rather obese man dressed in very fine silk robes, jewels on his fingers, and his beard stretched out and tied off in knots by rings. Once they had taken their seats alongside their brothers Caius spoke up.

“You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange this meeting; so who is our mysterious host May I ask?”

The man across from the five answered, “Apologies for the cloak and dagger my friends but I fear my presence here in Braavos might cause some…unrest. As for myself my name is Illyrio Mopatis, a humble magister from Pentos.”

Jon and the others shifted slightly, Caius narrowed his eyes at the magister “Pentos you say, now what could you be doing all the way over here in Braavos?”

“Why I am here to hire the company of Brave Swords of course.”

The five commanders shared a look with one another, silently speaking with a glance or a nod to one another. Finally Kazim answered the magister this time.

“You are aware that our company tenets forbid us accepting contracts that put us in conflict with the client prior magister?”

“Oh dear yes, I am well aware of your tenants, and all of your other rules my friend. No I do not wish to hire you for war against Braavos…I have need of you for a different purpose.”

“What purpose would that be,” Jon spoke up from the side? The magister leaned back and stroked his beard for a few moments before answering Jon.

“What would you know of Daenerys Targaryen?”

That had been the last thing the sellswords had expected to hear from the obese man. Everyone and anyone knew of Daenerys Targaryen, Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of dragons, and breaker of chains. Her fame was only matched by her notoriety here in the east. She was spoken in both reverence and awe in the free cities, the common people had become captivated by her story. Jon himself recalled the first time he had been told of the last of the Targaryens. Of how a young woman that had been sold off to a dothraki horse lord had risen up from having no lands, wealth or title, and had become Queen of Slavers Bay…and of course there was the stories about her children, her dragons, as well. Jon would never say it aloud, but he felt a sort of admiration for the woman, something akin to a character from a tale like Bael the Bard, or Ser Duncan the Tall.

“I know the mother of dragons, shared her bed back in Pentos a year ago,” Durand’s voice broke out, and everyone looked at him with a queer expression. He merely shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms.

“Best night of my life. Nothing like riding a dragon let me tell you.”

“Durand!”

The giant of a man looked to Caius and saw the look his commander was giving him. He nodded in apologies and turned back in silence. Jon couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Durand could face off against a host of Dothraki bloodriders in nothing but his small clothes, yet one look from Caius and he backs down like a pup before an older dog.

“Excuse him magister, now you were saying about Daenerys Targaryen?”

“Yes, Daenerys Targaryen, a woman unlike many others in this day and age. I recall when she was just a young timid girl wedding one of the fiercest warriors I had ever known in my life. And now she is the Queen of Meereen…she certainly has come far,” The old magister leaned back in his chair as if lost in nostalgia. “She has indeed come far…but you do not become queen without making a few enemies…or inspiring some fears from other people of similar power.”

Caius leaned in his chair closer to Illyrio as he continued. “My sources have informed me that a large host is being gathered here in Essos to march against Meereen and deal with Queen Daenerys permanently. Daenerys had acquired a great many enemies during her campaign to liberate Slaver’s Bay, and none of which would shed too many a tear to see the mother of dragons beaten, bloody, and dead. It is for this reason we are here right now. I wish for you to lend her your power. I want you and your brave swords to march to Meereen and aid the mother of dragons during this perilous time.”

No one spoke for several minutes; the gravity of what they were being asked commanded such silence. This man was asking them to march all the way to Meereen and then throw themselves into the middle of a war between the mother of dragons and gods only know how many of her enemies. Caius was the one to break the silence.

“What you ask sir is no small matter. The travel alone will take months, that’s not including the time it will take to acquire the proper supplies and weaponry for such a campaign. Not only that but you have yet to name these enemies we would be facing on behalf of the Queen of Meereen, their numbers, or even where the come from.”

Kazim spoke next, “Not to mention our men have just returned from another long and hard fought campaign. To ask them to so quickly march into battle with so little time to prepare is a great hindrance unto them.”

Illyrio raised his hands as king for a moment. “Yes yes I am well aware of the burdens you all face, and have come with solutions to them all.” Caius looks to Kazim before gesturing for Illyrio to continue.

“For your concerns about equipment I have made arrangements to have everything you require and need to be made available for you and your men. Once you make it to Meereen my scouts with relay the information to the ships who will then return to Pentos. And for all you and your men will give, I assure you the amount they will be paid for their services will be beyond significant; more than enough to placate their complaints I assure you.”

“How much as we talking exactly,” Durand’s question was mimicked by Jon and Luthor as they looked to the magister. The fat man smiled before pulling out a scroll from his sleeve and handing it off to Caius. Breaking the seal the lord commander unrolled the scroll and scanned its contents. What he read caused his brows to rise as high as he could make them. Handing off the scroll to Kazim he too looked amazed at what was written.

“You can guarantee all you have promised?”

“Yes good sir I can.”

“And the amount written, you will pay us that much?”

“The money will be waiting for you here at the Iron Bank once you and your men have completed the contract. You have my word.”

When the scroll reached Jon and Durand his large friend could not help but whistle at the amount. Jon himself was beside himself in disbelief at how much this man was willing to pay for their services. Once they had a moment to read over and ask a few more questions, Illyrio finally asked them.

“So my friends…have we a contract?”

Rolling up the scroll Caius stood to his full height and extended his hand out to the magister, “The Company of Brave Swords stands ready and at your service.” The magister smiled and shook Caius’ hand eagerly in delight. Before another word was spoken Jon spoke up.

“Why choose us?”

Everyone looked to the young commander as he spoke again? “Why choose us out of all the other sellsword companies out in Essos? I mean no disrespect to any of my brothers but why did you pick us? Would not a company like...,” Jon stopped himself for a moment, his hand shaking before calming it and continuing. “Like the Golden Company? Surely they would be better equipped to protect the Queen we could?”

Durand shrugged, Luthor looked at Jon, Kazim nodded at his words, and Caius looked to Illyrio. “Normally I would not say anything that would diminish the reputation of my men, but I have to agree.

“The boy has a point, why contract with us?”

The magister tried pulling himself us from his seat to look at Jon but instead opted to remain seated before answering.

“Because dear boy, the Golden Company have already been contracted to lead the assault on Meereen against Daenerys Targaryen.”

At those words Jon’s eyes widened and his breath shortened. His brothers spoke to one another while

Durand placed a hand to Jon’s shoulder, snapping him out of his trance.

“Hey, you ok?

Jon nodded before leaning back in his seat as Caius and Illyrio began talking again, ironing out the details of their contract. Jon had not stopped thinking about what he had just been told. The Golden Company, they would be fighting once more against the Golden Company. Images flashed quickly across Jon’s mind at the thought. A young girl with light chocolate skin and brown hair smiling at him, a tall young man grinning, a woman’s scream, blood flying in the air, and the same girl reaching out her hand for someone to help her. They vanish to the deep reaches of his mind just as soon as they appear, calming Jon some. He had spaced out long enough for Illyrio and Caius to finalize the contract and came to just as his fellow commander rose to depart the cabin.

Bidding farewell to the magister the five warriors made their way to the deck of the ship, where they saw the captain had already begun bringing them back into port.

**_-XXX-_ **

Once they had departed the ship the five commanders briskly made their way from the docks back into the heart of the city; Hilarius and Ghost following them from behind. Briskly they made their ways through the streets of Braavos until they came to a small plaza that broke off into three different directions. Caius looked to his fellow commanders before issuing their orders.

“We have five days to ready ourselves to travel to Meereen. We need all our men gathered together and made ready. In addition I want the recruits we have training at Lorsath also ready and to meet us here in four days.”

Caius looked to Kazim, “Send word to all our eyes and ears abroad; I want word on the Golden Companies movements as soon as possible.” Kazim nodded and to the path to the left as Caius looked to Luthor. “I want a weapons count, armor count, and a run down on our current supply stocks; we need to be well set for our journey to Meereen.” Luthor nodded and followed Kazim down the left path then Caius turned to both Durand and Jon.

“Durand you and Jon rally the men together, I want them marshalled outside the city gates in an hour.”

“Done,” the giant sell-sword hollard before taking off with Jon towards their intended destination. As they walked off from their leader Jon could not shake the feeling that something big was going to happen. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know when, but Jon knew something was going to happen; and when it did, nothing was going to be the same again. Not for him, and not for the men he called his brothers.

If only he knew.

_**xXx** _

Meereen

High from atop the great pyramid she looked down upon the great city below her. Her silver hair blowing in the wind as she took in the majesty of the Meereen. It is almost hard to believe that such a majestic sight was built upon the backs of slaves, and over their dead. Yet it was true. Not long ago Meereen was the pinnacle of slaver's bay, the greatest of the three slavers cities. Now it stood humbled by the efforts of her and her forces, brought to kneel before her like Yunkai before, and Astapor before that. They all fell before the mother of dragons.

She chuckled as she thought of herself as some one woman army. She reminds herself that she did not conqueror these three cities alone. At her side were councilors and friends alike. People she trusted with all her heart, and whose loyalty she need not ever question.

Daenerys gripped the railings of her balcony harder as an unpleasant thought drifted into her head. A reminder that not all who have served her were as true as they claimed. For she had remembered the close and painful betrayal she suffered from Ser Jorah Mormont, who she had called her closest friend.

It pained Daenerys to think on Ser Jorah, her loyal bear, the one she believed to have been most loyal to her, and in the end proved to be a viper playing a bear. Even as she thought upon his betrayal, on his exile, she found herself both filled with anger and sadness in equal portions. Though she scolded herself at her feelings of sadness, for she knew it was not in the betrayal that hurt most, but the pain of having to order away her friend. even now she can recall his pleading to her. begging for her to reconsider. But she could not, if she did then surely no one else would follow her. If she forgave him his lies and his betrayal, all while he declared she owed it to him, then her cause would be lost before it truly began.

Pushing aside her thoughts she composed herself as the sounds of her chamber door opening, and the form of Missandei appeared to greet her.

“Your grace, your councilors are awaiting you in the council room.”

Daenerys smiled and nodded as she walked towards her. “Then we should not keep them waiting any further, am I right Missandei?”

Her attendant smiled and blushed slightly as she answered, “Of course your grace.”

Exiting her room Daenerys walked down the corridors of the pyramid with Missandei at her side, the council room nearing. The unsullied posted at the doors opened for their queen to enter, not moving a muscle as the mother of dragons strode past them and into the room as they closed the door behind them.

Upon entering she came upon the sight of her councilors awaiting her. First to greet her was a man who’s loyalty to her she knew was as solid as stone, Ser Barristan Selmy.

The aging knight rose and bowed in respect to his queen, “Your grace, we have been waiting for you.”

Daenerys nodded and bid he sit down also, a request he obeyed without hesitation. Taking her seat at the head of the council table she quickly gazed about the room to each member of her esteemed council. Truth be told many here did not interest her, nor did she care to know about them. Of the men gathered at this table, only three besides Barristan were of note. There was Greyworm, her loyal and able commander of her unsullied forces. Silent, grim, but would cut out his heart at her whim if she wished it. Then there was Hizdahr zo Loraq, one of the heads of Meereen’s noble houses. She cannot say that she cares much for the man, but at the very least he is slightly more useful for her occupation of Meereen than any of the other house heads.

But is was that last one her gaze fell on that stirred the most from her. Daario Naharis, captain of the stormcrows sell-sword company, and most unmistakably a man of...many skills. Unlike Hizdahr or the other Meereen natives on her council Daario was a sight to behold. tall and firm, exotic yet familiar. If these men at her table were mere clay, then she would call Daario fire, as Barristan had often described her opinion on the man. The sell-sword captain was always wearing his trademark grin, with his three-pointed beard dyed blue only adding to the elure that came with such an exotic specimen like him.

Daenerys would have lingered on him for much longer if not for the sound of someone clearing his throat to get her attention. Daenerys broke her gaze and blushed as she looked to Barristan, a knowing smile plastered on his face at his queen. Composing herself, and compelling a slight blush to die down, she finally addressed the council.

“Gentlemen, what news do you bring me this day?”

It was Hizdhar who spoke first. “You grace, envoys from Quarth arrived early this morning by boat, their representatives would wish to have an audience with you concerning...matters of great importance.”

“Matters of great importance Hizdhar?”

“Great importance as describedby the representatives from Quarth...your grace.”

Barristan spoke next, “They gave no hint as to the nature of these matters of great importance to you, did they Hizdhar?” The Meereenese noble shook his head no in response.

“None Ser Knight, I confess I found the matter to be rather...peculiar, but there was indeed an urgency in their tone that I saw to be sincere.”

“Many can sound sincere, yet I have found that often sincerity is a convenient mask to disguise hidden intent.”

Hizdhar turned towards Daario at his comment. Daenerys looked between the two of them, the hidden animosity between the two was unmistakable. As a rule of thumb Daario and Hizdhar never truly got along well. Fortunately she didn’t need them to get along, just needed Hazdhar to help her with the politics and Daario for killing her enemies.

“Hizdhar, you may tell the representatives from Quarth that I will speak to them on the morrow, and please see to their accommodations during the term of their stay here. I want them to feel comfortable and secure while in my city.”

“A task easier done if not for the bloody Sons of the Harpy your grace.”

The council began whispering among each other at Daario’s response, and Dany was reminded of an unfortunate danger lying deep within Meereen. During her occupation of the city, there were those who sought to restore Meereen to its old ways, before the coming of the Mother of Dragons. Members of Noble houses, hired men paid for by others, these rebels struck swiftly and silently in the dark. Their attacks ranged from the freed men to the nobles who chose to side with Daenerys, to her own army of unsullied. They were a blight upon her city, and they needed to be stopped.

Barristan spoke to Dany next, “Captain Naharis speaks true my Queen. The Sons of the Harpy are indeed a potential threat to our guests from Quarth. Perhaps it would be wise if we also gave your guests some unsullied protection for the duration of their stay here in Meereen.”

“But there has been no activity from the Harpies recently has there Ser Barristan?”

“None your grace, but we have seen such patterns before. They lay in hiding, for weeks at a time even. Then they strike hard and without mercy. This reprieve may be over soon, and the Sons of the Harpy may ready to strike soon.”

Daenerys took in the old knight’s words, considering what he said strongly. She remained silent for a minute before she spoke.

“You truly believe Unsullied guards would be needed for our guests?”

“It would be the safest thing your grace. Better to be cautious when sleeping next to a nest of vipers your grace.”

Daenerys nodded her head in agreement, “Then it shall be done.” She then turned to her commander of the Unsullied, Greyworm, and issued him the following command.

“ _Greyworm, please select two of your best unsullied to guard our guests from Quarth.”_

“ _This one will not fail your grace. This one will see guests well guarded.”_

Daenerys nodded in appreciation before the council resumed their meeting. The rest was a blur of reports and other such matters. When they were finally finished Daenerys felt as though she had been sitting there for days. As the members of her council slowly began to leave one by one, she caught Daario out of the corner of her eye. His grin as wide as ever, his eyes gleaming with mischief, Dany was beside herself at the thought of what would come later in the evening. For Daario was a known late night visitor to the Queen’s chambers. Visits that made dawn come all the sooner, and the nights last far shorter than she would like.

As she stood from the table she looked and saw only herself, Missandei, and Ser Barristan remained. Before taking her leave to her chambers Ser Barristan spoke.

“Some counsel if I may my Queen?”

“Yes, Ser Barristan?”

The old knight walked closer to her before looking to where Daario had exited. Then he looked to his queen, “Fire is bright, entrancing, and has a dangerous allure that draws in many. I would caution that one should take care, lest they find themselves burned from coming too close to the flames.”

She knew what he was talking about, who he was talking about. Barristan never really approved of her and Daario. It was like a father disapproving of his daughter for falling for the wrong man, but without the scolding, merely sage advice.

“Your concern is touching Ser Barristan, but there is nothing to fear. For fire cannot harm a dragon.”

“Dragons your grace no, but young women, most certainly it would.”

And with that the Ser bowed and took his leave as well. Ser Barristan, her loyal protector and friend. Sometimes she forgets that he is merely her protector, and sometimes imagines he is her father, taking care of his daughter. It was Barristan that Daenerys looked to for an example of what she imagined a father would be. Kind, defensive, loving, but still strict, and not afraid to be blunt. She had to laugh at all the times Barristan had given her straight up blunt facts and advice over the time of his service to her. He was no sycophant, or a boot licker, oh no. The Bold was only ever honest and true with her. And she thanked the gods that a man such as Barristan stood at her side.

Leaving her thoughts behind,she returned to her chambers, the sun long having gone down, and the moon taking its place in the starlit sky. Missandei helped her to remove herself of jewelry and help her slip into robes to sleep in. After this was done she dismissed her for the night. walking to the table located near her bed, she poured herself a small glass of wine before walking to the balcony, once again take in the view of the city below. Lightly sipping from her goblet she let out a sigh as the cool breeze of the night air rushed by her. Opening her eyes she looked down to see her city silent as a graveyard. Not a unhappy sound to be heard...or maybe she just couldn’t hear it.

“ _Everything seems peaceful from up here...but how long can this last?”_

  
If only Daenerys knew. If only she knew that these precious moments of peace would be among the last for a long while. For soon the wheels of fate would begins to turn, and nothing for the young Queen would ever be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. So loved it, hated it, feel there's room for improvement? Let me know in the comments section.
> 
> Also I would like to say again I apologize for the lateness, but I promise I am back, and will be working twice as hard to churn out more chapters then I certainly did last year. It's one of my new years resolutions.
> 
> Till next time


	3. The Road to Meereen: Sailing and Swearing, and Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and co. take to the high seas on their way to Meereen, Kazim and Luthor arrive ahead to meet with the Mother of Dragons, and in the West, Dark forces plot against out heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well lookie here, I managed to keep my word after all. Managed to get out the next chapter without taking months to do so, you can all take a breath of relief. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, I am particularly proud of this chapter.

Off the Coast of Volantis

The sea winds blew strongly past Jon this morning. Months of sailing from Braavos, and they were finally closing in on their destination. Around two months ago The Company of Brave Swords had been contracted to provide support, and to defend Daenerys Targaryen from an imminent threat from the forces of the Golden Company. After they had accepted the contract, their client, Magister Illyrio, had arranged for a massive fleet of ships to gather near the coast of Braavos to ferry over their forces by sea to Meereen, rather than risk traveling by land. Rumors from Kazim’s contacts spoke about a large Dothraki host on the move, far bigger than their humble forces. So rather than face hopeless odds and spend far longer traveling, they opted to take the route by the sea.

A massive fleet left Braavos consisting of their bulk forces three weeks before Jon and his compatriots did. He, Durand, and their leader Caius remained behind to deal with some final matters. Once those had been finalized, The trio departed with their remaining forces on a smaller convoy of five ships, their destination of Meereen closing in day by day. For two months their small convoy sailed through the ocean, following the coast as a guide. Passing Pentos, Myr, Tyrosh, and Lys on their travels. Durand was sulking for days when Caius refused his request for a short stay at Lys. Jon had to laugh as he recalled his closest friend sulk and whine as though he was still a child and not a fearsome warrior. Though in his friend’s defense, there was nowhere in the whole of Essos that Durand would rather be than in Lys.

“ _ Remember this is nothing else Jon, if there is no true paradise in this world for men, than Lys would have to be the closest thing that we have.” _

Even now as they had long sailed away from the island paradise of Durand’s dreams, there was still the cloud hanging over his friend’s head, even as he bested the rest of the crew one after the other in games of dice.

Jon looked over from his spot by the side of the boat to see the small crowd of men gathered around Durand, loud laughing and cursing in equal measures being heard. The triumphant cry of his giant friend broke out as he won yet again against the crew. Also nearby was his loyal companion Ghost. Jon looked and listened as the poor creature whimpered and pressed it’s head between it’s legs. Ghost had no stomach for sea travel, and so he lay quietly in the center by the mast, trying ever so hard Jon could imagine to keep from getting sicker than he already was. Shaking his head Jon searched the ship until his gaze fell upon his leader Caius. The ever vigil leader of the Brave Swords stood proudly at the very front of the ship, his gaze fixed on the sea before him.

Jon could not find a better polar opposite of personalities then Durand and Caius. Where Durand was loud, proud, and boisterous, Caius was a calm, humble, and simple fellow. Years of battle having hardened the man into a cooler head than most anyone Jon has even known.

As he lingered longer on his commander, Jon took note that Caius still had his hand to the hilt of his sword. Even during such a beautiful day, while the others were without a care in the world, Caius stood ready for any sort of danger that could appear. It couldn’t be helped, it was in the man’s nature to always be on guard. In their line of work, all it takes is a moment to let one's guard down and they can end up dead. Jon remembered that being one of the first lessons Caius taught him when he first joined the Company of Brave Swords.

Thinking back on how long ago it was, Jon could not help be recall the night he first encountered Caius and the Brave Swords.

_ It was ten long years ago, Jon was still but a boy. He and his guardians were currently living in the town of Selhorys. Not a city of great note, it sat situated on the Rhoyne in western Essos. A walled in town, Selhorys was quite sizable all things considered. Sure it paled in comparison to the greatness of the free cities, but was still well enough in it’s own right. _

_ It was a day like any other for him. Jon had his lessons from Merta, helped Tom in the market, and then came home for supper once night fell. Once that was all done Jon would retreat to his room in their small home, and would bury himself in a book about the legends of Westeros. Stories of knights, and dragons, and other things that went bump in the night. _

_ Jon loved these stories. As far back as he was able to remember, Jon had wanted to be a knight, just like the ones in his stories. He wanted to be a hero people cheered for, who saved kings and maidens fair, and who conquered horrible monsters. _

_ It was while reading one such story that he first heard it. the sound of people screaming in terror. They tore Jon away from his reading as he hurried from his room to find Merta and Tom. But all he found was the house emptied, with no one but him inside. Racing for the door he flung it open to find people running all over the place, being chased by men dressed in golden armor. Jon watched in horror as the golden invaders cut down anyone who they crossed. Arrows to the head, spears through the back, sliced clean through by steel while riding atop their steeds, it was like they were set on killing everyone without using the same way twice. _

_ While stalls, and houses began to burn, and the streets of Selhorys began to burn with fire, poor young Jon, as quietly as he could, began to crawl his way through the carnage, attempting to find Tom and Merta in the midst of this carnage. Behind boxes, carts, or even the dead Jon hid himself, daring to move on only when he felt it safe. When he finally came to the market he was presented with a horrid sight. Hundreds of people being slaughtered by the dozens, hundreds more of the golden soldiers rode in through the gates to add to the killing. _

_ He was so overcome by the destruction all around him that he almost missed the sight of Tom and Merta waving at Jon from an alley nearby. Relief filled him as they quickly moved from their spot and rushed to Jon. But relief soon turned into despair as Jon witnessed his guardians felled by arrows shot from the invaders, just as they were about to reach him. All he could do then was stare at their bodies, bleeding out before his feet. In that moment, Jon felt a deep and encroaching fear budding within him. _

_ He was going to die. _

_ “Look at this one lads!” _

_ The voice stirred Jon from his shock as three of these golden soldiers stood before him. The one in the middle looked to the dead bodies before them before looking to Jon. _

_ “Sorry laddie, was thems your mommy and daddy?” _

_ Jon didn’t answer him, he was too afraid, afraid to move, to speak, or even breathe. _

_ “Wasn’t personal, it’s just the job. But don’t you worry none son, we ain’t cruel, we won’t leave you to suffer all on your lonesome.” _

_ Jon watched in horror as the middle one drew his sword from his sheath and pointed it straight at Jon. _

_ “Just close your eyes son and it’ll all be over with soon.” _

_ He raised his sword high over head, but before he could bring it down, Jon bolted for his life. The men chasing him, his dead guardians, all the people being killed, the city burning around him, none of that mattered anymore. Survival was all that was on Jon’s mind. His legs carried him as fast as they could, but in the end his escape was not long to last. _

_ The pounding sensation of filled his head when he was struck by the hilt of a sword. Stars filled his eyes as he fell from his run and stumbled into a fall. Landing hard against the road, Jon could barely keep himself conscious as his soon-to-be killers surrounded him. _

_ “I hate it when they run. Now lets try this again shall we!?” _

_ This was it, with what sense of wit he had left, Jon readied himself for the end. But instead of feeling steel cut through his flesh he heard the sounds of horns blowing through the air. His assailants now completely forgot about him, and hurried back towards the market. Jon tried to remain awake, fearful of passing out in the middle of all this, but try as he did, his little body fought against his efforts. Darkness began to enclose his vision, the sounds of swords clashing, men yelling, and horses racing were the last things he remembered before drifting away into blissful unconsciousness. _

_ Time was lost to the poor boy, but the next thing he knew he was being hoisted up in somebody’s arms. _

_ “I found a survivor, a boy! He’s been injured, someone fetch the healer, NOW!” _

_ As consciousness returned to him for a moment, Jon’s eyes opened and he gazed upon the sight of his savior. A dark haired man with a warrior's face, but a look of concern that seems out of place. _

_ “Your ok son, its over, they are gone...you're safe.” _

_ That was the last thing he heard before he fell unconscious again. Though one thing he definitely remembered was what he thought the moment he set eyes upon his savior. _

_ This man must have been a knight _

Jon’s remembering was interrupted when Caius called out to him. “Jon, come here a moment won’t you?”

He needn’t be told a second time, and quickly came to stand beside his commander.

“Sir.”

“I just wanted to see if you were doing well.”

“Sir?”

Caius looked to Jon with a look that told him he knew what he was talking about.

“This contract, the impending conflict with the Golden Company, I am well aware that this whole situation must be affecting you in some ways. I just want to make sure that you’re going to be able to get through this ok.”

“My lord your concern is all well and good sir, but it unnecessary.” Jon looked like he meant what he said, but could see that Caius still harbored doubts. “I will not lie to you sir, I am anxious, but not for the reasons you think. I am anxious because I am eager to drive my sword into their golden skulls.”

Caius nodded as Jon continued, “What happened back then, I know it gives you and the others pause to worry over me, but I swear to you that I will not require such worries. When we face off with the Golden Company, I will be every bit the soldier you trained me to be, to be the man that you raise me to be sir.”

Caius’ expression softened at Jon’s slip of the tongue. Normally they tried to maintain a professional relationship. Jon would speak to him, and refer to him in the most respectful of manners. but every now and then the part of Jon that still remembers learning how to ride, wield a sword, and fight would come out, the part of Jon that always looked to Caius as a father, as he also looked to Jon as a son in many ways.

“That pleases me to hear Jon, now I hope-”

Caius stopped himself as he noted something on the horizon. Hurrying over to the back of the ship he was joined by Jon and Durand both. The spyglass in hand, Caius gazed through it to confirm what he had seen.

“Sails coming up behind us, and fast!”

Caius’ call rallied the men to their stations, and also drew their captain up from below deck. Theric was a hefty man, balding of hair, and light of skin, but a more skilled sailor, and a more stubborn man on the high seas you were likely not to meet. As the men scurried to their stations, Theric made his way over to Jon and the others.

“Lord Caius, do you spy any colors?”

Caius shook his head before handing the spyglass over to the captain. “No, they fly none.”

“Any chance they are just merchant ships heading in the same direction we are...and gaining on us?” Durand’s question was met with blank stares from the other three. Ten sails flying no colors, no indication on whether or not they were friend or foe...that usually meant one thing and Durand knew it. The giant sellsword nodded his head in understanding. It was Theric who identified their pursuers.

“Damn them all to the seven hells, I recognize the ship at the head.” He handed the spyglass back to Caius and directed him to the ship at the forefront of the pursuing fleet. “That ship there is the Bitter End, a vessel piloted by a villain by the name of Silas.”

Caius Handed the glass over to Jon, who in turn looked to gaze upon their approaching foes.

“Can we outrun them Captain,” Caius’ question was shared by all, but Theric’s face did not inspire much hope in Jon and Durand.

“Silas and his ship will catch us long before we have a chance to make a break from them.”

“THEN WE FIGHT!” Durand burst out saying, raising his war hammer high in the air, their men echoing his sentiment. All which Theric shot down quickly as Durand raised it.

“Silas and his men are professionals in the art of sea combat, cutthroats in the service of House Greyjoy. Your men are all well and good, but fighting on land is nothing like battling at sea. Not to mention that they outnumber us two ships to each of ours. We would be overwhelmed and dead before our bodies even knew we were. It would take a miracle to survive this.”

As they pondered how to deal with the danger at hand, it was Jon who was struck by inspiration.

“A miracle...or something completely bent!”

Tossing the glass to Durand he hurried down to the deck, followed closely by the others. Pulling out a map he spread it out on a barrel for the others to see.

“Ok, here we are, well past Volantis, so any chance we might have to outmaneuvering them, and seeking aid is impossible. So instead of simply fighting, or evading them, we force them to give up the chase entirely.”

“And how exactly do you expect is to do that Master Jon?”

The grin Jon was sporting confused the ship’s captain until he saw what Jon was pointing to.

“Damn the devil boy, you have lost sense!”

“It’s the only way, they would not dare follow us into there.”

“I would not lead us into there. Those are cursed waters boy. Forget Silas and his men, I’d rather turn and fight and die than risk sailing through that damned place!”

Caius and Durand looked to the map to see Where Jon was now pointing to. And Theric was right, Jon was talking madness. For their young comrade was proposing that they venture through the ruins of the Valyrian peninsula. Legends spoke of the ruins of Old Valyria being cursed still long after the Doom had consumed it. Now it was but a heap of ruins, overgrowth, and in the midst of what men now called the smoking sea. It was no place for men, save for the stone men who were said to call the ruins their home. No sane man would think to sail those waters, not for all the riches in the world.

And despite all that, it would seem to be their only route to salvation.

“Jon is right captain, men like Silas are superstitious and cowardly. they would not think to follow us into the smoking sea.”

“I will not sail us into cursed seas Lord Caius, not as long as I am captain!”

“If you don’t then certain death awaits us from our pursuers.”

Theric was against a wall. To do what they were asking, it was sheer madness. They must be devil spawn if they were truly serious about following through with this mad gambit of theirs. Seeing as the three Sellsword commanders were united in this course, Theric released a sigh of exasperation.

“Find then. Signal our ships to correct their course, our new destination is the smoking sea, and the doom beyond.”

Theric barked out his orders to his men who scurried to signal the other ships about this change in course. As the ships began to change their direction, Jon could only pray to whatever god or gods were watching over them, and pray that he made the right call in suggesting this course. He repeated this to himself as their ships headed full speed straight into the ruins of old Valyria, and the unknown dangers that awaited them within.

**xXx**

Meereen

Suffice it to say, Kazim was expecting a much warmer reception for him and the other when they finally arrived at Meereen. Now on three weeks ago when their massive fleet of ships has managed to arrive safely to their destination, Kazim and Luthor were surprised to find a rather large army of Unsullied awaiting them along the coast line of Meereen. To be fair, he supposed that it was the rational thing to do when a rather large fleet of ships enters your waters unannounced, and could potentially be here to invade. So he did not hold that against them.

Kazim took with him a small handful of men in a small boat, and came ashore to make the proper introductions. He was greeted by a elderly knight dawned in white armor, with a magnificent white beard and hair to match. At his side stood a man Kazim was well acquainted with, Daario Naharis of the stormcrows. Diplomacy had never been more needed than right now for Kazim.

“Peace be with you my friends, I am Kazim, second division commander of the Company of Brave Swords! I seek out the Queen Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons!”

It was the elderly knight who answered him, “I am Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of her grace’s Queensguard. What business have you with the Queen, Kazim of the Brave Swords?”

Slowly Kazim reached into the cloak he wore. Barristan and his men tensed as if waiting for Kazim to make the first move, but saw instead of a knife he pulled out a scroll. He held out his hand and took a few cautious steps forward before he was told to stop by a hand from Selmy.

“This scroll explains everything,” Barristan looked to him wearily, Daario much the same. Things were not looking good at the moment, Kazim needed to talk fast.

“I swear to you, we come not to make war against your Queen...we come instead to fight for the mother of Dragons!”

This declaration was taken with much surprised from Ser Barristan, less for Daario, and more like annoyance. Deciding to take the risk, Barristan signaled the Unsullied to stand down. Once that was done he took the remaining steps forward until he and Kazim were at arm’s length. the scroll still held out to him in Kazim’s hand, Barristan took the scroll from Kazim, and unrolled the parchment. Scanning its contents for a few moments, he looked up at Kazim for a moment, and then back and the scroll again. Rolling it up, he looked to Daario and signaled him to call a retreat of the Unsullied back behind Meereen’s walls. After that he looked to Kazim and spoke clearly to him.

“I will take your message to the Queen, and she will decide whether or not to believe your claims or not. In the meantime, you and your men will wait outside Meereen’s walls, under supervision of our Unsullied. Just in case you think to try something.”

Kazim took Barristan’s terms well, and nodded in agreement.

“Very well, we shall await news from your Queen on her decision. Until then we shall remain here outside of your city.”

Extending his hand, the sellsword and knight shook one another's hands before retreating back to the fleet, and the city respectively.

And so they have waited..for three weeks...with not a word from them since. On the off occasion they were allowed to purchase some female company to attend them while they waited, but that was about it. Kazim understood that they were only being cautious, heck he even realized that the Queen was still a young woman, who probably had councilors in each ear arguing one way or another about them. So here they waited, for three fucking weeks.

It was on this beautiful day, while taking count of their men, and ensuring all was accounted for, that Kazim was joined by his comrade Luthor. the dark skinned sellsword greeted his brother warmly.

“Kazim, a good morning to you. Up early as usual I see.”

“Luthor, good to see you up this morning my friend.”

The two commanders leaned against the sides of the deck of their ship, both gazes fixated on the city of Meereen.

“Still no word from Daenerys yet?”

Kazim shook his head, “Not a word in three fucking weeks. How long must it take for them to decide to trust us or not?”

Luthor bit into an apple he was carrying before answering his friend.

“Well she is a woman after all. Is it not a woman’s prerogative to change her mind?”

Kazim looked to his friend before both of them chuckled in laughter. As that died down, a silence overtook them for a few minutes. The rest of their men slowly awakening one by one. As they continued to gaze towards Meereen as their men awoke, Luthor spoke aloud.

“Do you suppose that her silence is her answer to us?”

Kazim certainly hoped not. “I told the old knight that we would wait until we heard from her, yet in three weeks since we have heard nothing from her.”

Luthor looked about the fleet, the men waking, or sleeping, or drinking, or gambling. Anything to keep them free of the boredom they undoubtedly were feeling.

“If we do not hear from her soon brother, I fear that our brothers will no longer have the patience to wait for her.”

Kazim nodded his head in agreement. Yet it was in this moment that he noticed someone approaching them from the coast. Quickly grabbing his spyglass, Kazim zoomed in and saw it to be Ser Barristan with a small guard of Unsullied. Kazim ordered a boat be made ready for him and Luthor immediately as their hosts grew closer. Within minutes Kazim, Luthor, and a handful of men were rowing towards the shore. Once they had reached land, the sellswords came face to face with the elderly knight and his men. Ser Barristan looked between the two before speaking.

“Her Grace, Queen Daenerys, has agreed to an audience with you. We are to escort you to her grace without delay.”

Kazim nodded, ordering the men to remain behind, but insisted to Barristan that Luthor accompany him. The old knight agreed, and they set off towards Meereen. As they entered through her gates, they could not stop but to marvel at the beauty and architecture of the city. Well more so Kazim admired, Luthor merely looked about the streets with a look of checked anger. It wasn’t to be unexpected, Kazim knew this. He knew that long before Luthor had joined them, he had fought as a fighter in arenas and palaces for the entertainment of others. A slave born and raised. But fortunately for him he had managed to purchase his freedom through an incredible victory in battle some years ago. Luthor never liked to talk about his time as a slave, instead preferring to think only of his time with his newfound brothers.

Their journey through the city came to an abrupt stop as they came before the great pyramid of Meereen, home undoubtedly now to the Mother of Dragons. Once inside, they were led through the interior of the structure until they finally came to the audience chamber...and her.

Standing up on a throne sat Daenerys Targaryen, the last of her family, the Queen of Meereen, and most infamously, the mother of dragons. And was she a sight to behold. Unbelievably beautiful silver hair, surreal amethyst, delicate skin, all pressed down in a beautiful blue dress that fit her to perfection. This, this is what a Queen was meant to look like.

It was then that a young girl that had been standing beside of Daenerys moved forward to speak as soon as Barristan took his place near the Queen as her protector.

“You Stand before Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name, the unburnt, the Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khalessi of the great grass sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.”

Kazim and Luthor both bent to one knee to the young queen. A few moments passed before she gestured for them to rise. Once they had she spoke.

“Welcome, I hope you and your brethren have not grown too restless while waiting good sirs.”

“Not at all your grace,” Kazim replied. “In fact it was a well needed reprieve. We have been sailing for months, and a chance to catch our breaths and rest was much needed. So in that respect I thank your grace for giving us the time to recuperate.”

Daenerys raised an elegant eyebrow at the sellsword’s reply. A quick and smooth talker this one was she realized. Probably ready with an answer to any question she had for him. Still she pressed on.

“Indeed, now tell me why you and your men sailed for so long to reach here?”

Kazim looked to his comrade before back to the Queen, “I was under the impression that her grace was already informed as to our intent. That was the purpose for the scroll I delivered to your Ser Knight no?”

Daenerys made a gesture with her hand and Barristan handed her the parchment.

“Yes it was quite clear what was written here. But ink and words are often hollow and cheap. What proof besides this parchment do I have that what you say is truth?”

Kazim was at a loss at what to say. That letter from Illyrio was suppose to be what ensured her that they were here to fight for her, that they were on her side. Kazim’s eye caught Daario Naharis grinning from the corner of his eye. Ah Daario, yes he could see now why the Queen was so hesitant about them. Daario had a way with women, he always did. Kazim did not know how long he had been in the service of Daenerys, but there was a very good chance that he was well into the Queen’s confidence, enough perhaps to put doubt in her mind. Daario and the Brave Swords had met on and off as both rivals and allies evenly. He was well versed in the tactics Kazim and his comrades used, so he could be counseling her that this was all just a mummur’s farce. Well Kazim was having none of that.

“It is true your grace that words are indeed as cheap as the ink they are written with, or the mouth they come from. It has always been my belief that actions always speak louder, and show far more than words ever could.”

Daenerys listened as Kazim continued. “When we first arrived my men, my brothers made no moves hostile towards Meereen, save for appearing at the ready should they need to come to my defense as I alone walked unarmed towards your more than ready and able army of Unsullied.”

She looked over to Barristan, who nodded his head to let her know he spoke true.

“After that when told that we must wait for you to reach a decision, we waited without once moving in anyway that would breach the conditions set by you Queensguard there. For three weeks my men stayed on their boats, swimming in the ocean, and on occasion when they needed to, stretched their legs out on the coast for a short reprieve, then immediately returned to their ships.”

Daenerys listened intently as Kazim continued to make his case.

“Your grace, me and my brothers, myself, my friend with me, and my other three fellow commanders were approached by your acquaintance, Magister Illyrio, who purchased our services for you, to fight alongside, and to die for you. You may ask your counselors, you may ask Daario Naharis, you may even write to Magister Illyrio to confirm all that we have said. Your grace, the word of the Brave Swords is an unbreakable oath that we hold to as dearly as we do our brothers in arms. So please believe when I say that we come here with only the intent to uphold the contract made between us and Magister Illyrio, and nothing more.”

There was silence throughout the room, Kazim’s words getting a moment to sink in and make their point. Minutes passed before Daenerys spoke again.

“You speak quite passionately sir. And indeed, I agree that actions do speak and show more than words do. And you and your compatriots have been nothing if not quite guests as you waited.”

A chuckle slipped from Kazim’s lips, while a small smile graced the Queen’s lips.

“Very well, Kazim was it? For the time being I shall trust you and your word. You and your men are welcomed into the city, so they may relax, and become settled in during their stay here in Meereen.”

Kazim bowed in gratitude at Daenerys’ decision. Looking to Luthor and nodding, his friend exited the chamber to return and inform the men of the news. After he had left Daenerys addressed him again.

“Ser Kazim, when you spoke earlier you mentioned other commanders for your men. My guards have reported that you and the other, Luthor was it, were the only commanders that have been seen with your soldiers since you first arrived. So where are the others?”

“Well you grace, myself and Luthor were sent ahead with the majority of our men while our leader Caius, and our third and fifth division commanders Durand and Jon remained behind in Braavos for a few more weeks to handle some other matters. But they should be well on their way here with the rest of our men.”

Before he could continue a guard quickly marched into the room, and approached another Unsullied guard. This one, who Kazim took to be their leader, nodded to his man before walking up the steps of the throne and whispering something in his Queen’s ear. She nodded her head in understanding before she dismissed him.

“Apparently five more ships have just entered the bay. Your comrades I presume?”

Nothing could hold back the grin that fell upon Kazim’s face as he heard this news.

“Yes your grace, I do believe they are.”

**xXx**

Dragonstone

Deep within the ancestral palace of House Targaryen, on the highest level of the stone drum, lies the chamber of the painted table. It is here, in the otherwise darkened room, illuminated by a single candelabra in the center of the table, that a small gathering of individuals had come together. Amidst darkness and the night, the moon outside blocked out by the clouds, the identities of these men were safely concealed by the darkness...all but one. At the far end of the table, at the head, one man was plainly illuminated by the light of the candles for all to see. This individual was a slim, but fit looking man well into his fourth decade on this earth. Despite that he still retained a youthful appearance to himself. His hair was jet black, slicked back and drawn together into a short ponytail that reached the back on his neck. His face spotted a small fine trimmed moustache that went with a goatee on his chin, also tightly trimmed. His eyes were like obsidian, almost as if looking into a deep, dark abyss with no end to it. He dressed himself in similar dark clothing, an ebony black doublet and pants and leather gloves to match.

It was this man who spoke through the darkness to his guests.

“Tell me, what news does the seven kingdoms have to offer me this night?”

The man on his left spoke first, “All is quiet, as can be expected. My agents inform me that Catelyn Stark has been attempting to reach out to her sister Lysa in the Vale. Apparently she had been sending raven after raven, but her sister continues to refuse to answer her.”

“No surprise there. The way that one works it would be a miracle if she could tear herself away from breast feeding that sickly child of hers. Honestly it would probably be a mercy to put both of them out of their collective misery,” A voice from across the first spoke. His tone filled with arrogance and mockery.

Another of the figures grunted at the second’s quips. Before more could be said, the man at the head of the painted table addressed the man to his left again. “What do these letters say my lord? What would Lady Stark want of her sister I wonder?”

“She presses her sister on information about her daughters Arya and Sansa. Apparently a rumor reached her ears that Lady Sansa had been removed from her home in King’s Landing and placed into the care of her aunt. I have continued to counsel her to refuse to answer back these ridiculous claims, for fear of providing false hope to her sister, and to prevent Lord Robert from coming under suspicion by the crown of treason.”

The man at the head of the table folded his fingers together at this. All information about Arya and Sansa Stark was closely held secrets. He had worked hard to ensure that no information or word about the two would reach their family, save for any letters he had dictated for them to write, to continue to prove that they lived. 

“Disturbing news indeed, we will need to locate the source of these rumors and silence them. Lord Baelish, we would be ever so grateful if you would continue to council to the Lady Arryn on these matters. It would not serve anyone well if such talk prompted Robb Stark to attempt another incursion from the North.”

The man revealed to be Petyr Baelish nodded to his host in acknowledgement. Baelish was a short man of slender build, with sharp features, Petyr has gray-green eyes, a small pointed beard on his chin, and threads of grey running throughout his dark hair. Once merely a head of a small house who managed to work his way into becoming the head of customs in Gulltown, Baelish had long since caught the eye of certain individuals who saw promise in the man.

Their host turned to the man who sat at the right, and spoke to him. “And what of you Lord Euron, what news have you for me?”

The now named Euron Greyjoy turned his eye towards his host. Euron is pale and handsome with black hair and a dark beard. In addition, his lips are a pale blue, due to his propensity to drink shade of the evening. The younger brother of Balon Greyjoy, Euron demonstrated very early on a mindset that differed greatly from his other three brothers. Where they were content to continuing the old ways of the Ironborn, Euron was not. His eye gazed beyond their small, impoverished kingdom, desiring more for himself, then the shit his people were content with. So Euron made to better himself, and now stood as lord of the Iron Islands, and Master of Ships.

“My Lord, no more news then can be expected, my men sail throughout the seas, wherever they are able, bringing with them chaos and strife in the riverlands, the vale, and the reach. The people suffer, and the crown does nothing.”

“Excellent, though it pains me to have to put the innocent people of Westeros through such troubles, it is all for the promise of a better tomorrow. You must continue your attacks Lord Euron,ensure none know it is the Ironborn who commit these atrocities. The people must become scared and angry, only then can liberate them from their suffering.”

The lord of the Iron Islands nodded to his host, “As you will it...Lord Blackfyre.”

The now named Daeron Blackfyre grinned, the shadows from the candles dancing on his face, both concealing, and revealing his face back and forth. Daeron looked further down the table to the two men further away from the group.

“What news from the stormlands, what news of Stannis Baratheon?”

A younger voice then has been spoke, “Stannis continues his defiance my lord. He and what small gathering of allies he has managed to gather continue to battle against forces loyal to the crown. He is..difficult to pin down sir. His forces pale in comparison to ours, but at the same time he is...persistent in his desire to defy us. His persistence is seemingly without end.”

Daeron slammed his hand against the table, startling all. The Last member of House Blackfyre looked across the table and into the darkness, his gaze piercing through the shadows and looking into the young lord’s eyes.

“That my friend, simply is not good enough. Stannis is but a thorn, but one that if not removed promptly and swiftly could turn venomous.”

His hand reached out and grasped his goblet, bringing it to his lips as he downed a couple of sips of his wine. Placing the goblet back on the table he looked back to his guest. “No excuses, Stannis must be brought to justice for his treason, and you will see to it...or I promise you there will be consequences.”

The young man at the far end of the table nodded in silence, not having the courage to reply to Daeron. With that said and done, Daeron rose from his seat, but signaled the others to remain seated. Picking up his goblet and finishing off it’s contents, the Blackfyre looked to his guests and spoke.

“Now I have news for you my friends. Word from across the narrow sea has reached my ears that Daenerys Targaryen has strengthened her ranks with the Company of Brave Swords.” This news certainly came as a shock to all present. Of the many plots and schemes that this shadow council were in the midst of, one matter was always presented as a possible threat to them, and their ambitions, Daenerys Targaryen. As the last of her line, she could prove most dangerous if she were to reach the shores of Westeros, and undo what they have spent years building. It was that concern for her, and her dragons, that prompted their little cabal to enlist powerful allies in Essos to deal with the last Targaryen, before she becomes too big of a problem for them to deal with. Now to hear that she has added a powerful group of soldiers to her already formidable forces, this was most certainly not welcome news.

“How my lord? How could she be made aware of the Golden Company moving against her? And even more so, how could she be in a position to acquire aid long before the Golden Company even arrive at Meereen?”

Baelish’s questions were echoed by the others in the room. They all seemed rather flustered at the news, all except for Daeron.

“I suspect that the mother of dragons has eyes watching over her.”

Baelish turned to Blackfyre with a questioning look, “Varys my lord?”

“The spider has not been heard of or seen in months, not since he aided tyrion in escaping from the Red Keep,” A new voice spoke up.

Daeron poured himself another glass of wine before speaking to his allies. “Varys, or someone else entirely it does not matter. The inclusion of the Brave Swords, while an unforeseen development, will be of no consequence in the battle that is to come. Daenerys’ forces will be destroyed, and the mother of dragons brought to kneel before the Iron Throne. This I promise you my lords.”

After that Daeron dismissed all his guests, wishing them all well in their endeavors, and safe travels. Along in the chamber, Daeron stood from his seat and approached the window, facing out towards the sea. gazing out at the crashing of the waves and the stars shining in the sky. It was moments like this that Daeron felt truly at peace. Not an easy thing considering all of the matters that plague his mind. It was true what he was told long ago by his father, it is not easy ruling the world. but someone had to do it. Someone had to guide the world out of the hand of those who would only seek to better themselves, and leave others to suffer in the aftermath. Daeron had to let out a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Robert Baratheon became king, and rather than seeking to better his kingdom, he nearly brought it to the brink of bankruptcy, all the while he divulged himself in wine, and food, and women. A pathetic king if ever there was one. Then there was the Lannisters. Pompous power hungry fools, who sought to elevate themselves far higher than what they already had. They took the seven kingdoms as their own, and have squandered it away to nothing, all the while creating more problems than they solve. Were it not for the fact that Daeron had managed to position himself into a strong position of power, there would most likely be nothing left of the seven kingdoms. 

Who else but Daeron could have done all of this. When that Golden cow Cersei slaughtered Ned Stark’s men, and threw him in a black cell, it was Daeron who managed to calm the situation down, when that rabid dog Joffrey took Ned Stark’s head, it was Daeron’s scheming, and work that quickly, and without blood, subdued Ned’s son Robb, and his rebellion. Were it not for Daeron the whole of Westeros would have been flung into unending chaos that would have left nothing but a great feast for the crows long ago. He was the architect of a new world, one he will see brought to fruition, no matter what it takes. He cannot allow for more fools to ruin Westeros then already have. The Seven Kingdoms need a man of vision, action, and a man who can unite them all together truly as one united kingdom. And that someone was going to be Daeron.

He was brought from his musings when a silky voice broke through the silence of the room.

“You seem troubled my lord.”

Daeron looked to gaze upon a sight most welcome, his most trusted confidant, Melisandre of Asshai. Many years ago the two crossed paths for the first time, and since that day Daeron held no one’s counsel more closely than the fire priestess. Motioning her to come forward, she joined the Blackfyre at his side, gazing out into the ocean.

“My lord is well I assume?”

“Yes my lady, all is as it should be. Our allies set about the tasks that are given to them that we may one day create a new world, with us as its architects.”

Melisandre nodded and rested her hand upon Daeron’s arm. a moment of silence passed before Daeron spoke again.

“There was news my lady, news that I confess has me most...disturbed.”

The red woman looked up to her lord as he continued, “The last Targaryen, Daenerys, my spies inform me she has gathered a mighty force to her side. I fear that this development could be more lethal then I allowed my allies to believe.”

Taking her hand in his own, Daeron brought them to the table where the candelabra sat, looking to her before back to the candleabra.

“Show me what the flames show you my lady. Show me what they foretell of the battle in the east.”

Detaching her hand from his, Melisandre looked closer into the flames, her eyes aglow as she gazed into its warmth. Minutes go by without a word, then her gaze breaks from the fire and looks to her lord.

“The flames tell me of a great battle that is to come my lord. Of a golden giant crashing against a sea of swords and spears. Of dragons setting the sea ablaze, and a thundering so loud it drowns out the singing of the dragons. I also see something else, something far more troubling.”

Daeron was lost in her prophecy as she continued.

“I see a boy, a boy entering dragon fire, and rises out a man clothed in armor. At his side I see a woman in silver, the flames of the dragons dancing upon her skin. Upon their heads are a crown of ice, and a crown of fire, and three dragons at their back.”

Daeron’s brows narrowed as he listened to each word the red priestess spoke. But nothing could prepare him for what Melisandre told him next.

“I see these two, this king and queen of ice and fire, I see them reaching out from the east, and covering the west in their shadow. And I see the king of ice, with his sword in hand, piercing through the heart of a great dragon, surrounded by a circle of Black Fire.”

Melisandre looked to Daeron, and spoke the words he feared to hear.

“If these visions are allowed to come to pass, then all you have worked for will be lost.”

Daeron nodded his head in understanding.

“So what you're saying my lady, is that these two, this man and this woman, if I am to succeed…”

“Then they must die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there are these two guys at a coffee shop. One guy asks the the other, hey when are you going to update your fanfiction again? And the other guy says, oh very soon, just as soon as GRRM releases the Winds of Winter.
> 
> Huh, HUH? Anything...nothing...OK.
> 
> Anyways thanks for taking the time to enjoy this new chapter, hope everyone has a wonderful day/night, wherever the hell you live, and feel free to leave a review behind. I accept all forms of constructive criticism, but I withhold the right to delete anyone's flaming. We will have none of that Shit.
> 
> See you guys in Chapter 4.


	4. The Looming Danger: The Threat of the Golden Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treacherous Waters, Formal alliances, and a Gathering of Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay everyone. Mush has happened since I last updated. I'll explain more at the end of the chapter, but until then I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. I confess, I feel that it is not my best, but I will let you guys be the judge.

xXx

Meereen Harbor

All along the coast of Meereen’s harbor the Brave Swords stood at attention. All five thousand men stood side by side as they watched the spectacle before them. The fleet of ships in the harbor that transported them all had been moved to make a single path for a lone ship. The Ship carrying the deceased captain and other poor souls that had fallen on the final length of the journey to Meereen. At the front of the mass of soldiers were their five commanders, each carrying a single torch with them.

Caius broke away from the other commanders and approached the lone ship that was ready to sail alone along the path made for it by the fleet. Gazing upon the deck he eyed the bodies of at least a dozen or more men, all wrapped in cloth and set upon straw bedding. All save for one, one who was similarly wrapped, but was placed slightly higher on a small mound of wood.

Caius turned to his brothers, and spoke loud and clear for all to hear.

“We are here today because of the courage of others. Courage that bid them to put their lives at risk for the sake of others. And courage that had them end their own lives as they would choose to end it, not suffer a life not worth living!”

The Brave Swords all gave a large Howl thrice before quieting down, a symbol of trust, respect, and honor to the glorious fallen.

“We give honor and praise to those brave souls who have earned their hallowed rest, and pray that they be remembered for as long as we, here and now, shall live.”

Caius drew his blade and raised it high towards the ship where the dead lay, an action reciprocated by his brothers in kind. First the commanders drew their blades, then the rest, all pointing towards the open sea, and to the men set for their final rest. Then Caius moved towards the end of the ship, and swiftly cut the ropes holding the ship anchored in place. The Ship slowly began to move, the rigging held fast in place so it would travel straight and true through the path laid out by the fleet.

Then once the ship was on it’s way out to sea Caius was joined by his fellow commanders, and the five as one threw their torches onto the ship, setting the straw and hay on fire, and soon too the ship as well.

The Brave Swords all stood in silence as they watched the burning ship sail out of the bay, and out further towards the open ocean. Long after the ship had vanished from their sight the men remained along the shore. Until finally Caius gave the order to disperse, and everyone quickly dispersed. Some heading into the city, some beginning to set up tents, or move cargo into the city itself. In the end only Jon and the five commanders remained near the edge of the harbor.

Jon broke the silence between the five of them. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Men die all the time Jon, it’s merely a matter of where and when.” the sage voice of Kazim answered Jon.

“But Theric need not have died to begin with...had I been more vigilant.”

“Enough Jon,” Caius’ tone left no room to argue as he approached Jon! The Sharp tone of his leader silenced any further discussion on the matter Jon might have had.

His leader looked to him and shook his head before placing his hand on Jon’s Shoulder.

“It is easy enough to blame yourself for the death of a comrade, but there is no need Jon. We all choose our actions for ourselves, no one can compel us to do one thing or another.” Jon lowered his gaze, while Caius smiled slightly, “Theric made his choice, now you have to honor his choice, and live now...you owe that to him.”

Grief began to swell up inside of Jon at those words. His mind began racing back to what happened to Theric and the others, just days ago.

_After lengthy arguments about their decided course, Theric eventually conceded to Jon and the other commander’s wishes. They managed to escape their pursuers as they predicted, but now that left them with a more ominous situation to deal with. The ruins of old Valyria were a cursed place, known far and wide as still being haunted by the doom that long ago consumed the entire valyrian culture_

_Sailing through it’s ruined remains was like they were walking over the graves of the dead. All aboard felt an eerie presence come over them as their ships continued to sail through the ruins._

_Jon and several others stood along the sides of the ship, looking out at either the ruins of the ancient city around them, or the smoking sea that still lay before them._

_As a boy Jon had been told the tale of Valyria and the doom that befell it. He still remembers his minders telling him the story as he lay wrapped comfortably in his bed._

_“Valyria was the jewel of the ancient world, an empire that stood at the forefront of any possible endeavor. They build castles and roads long before the rest of the world knew how. They rode proudly on the backs of Dragons, harnessing their power in times of conflict, or times of expansion. There has never been, or ever will be a culture like Valyria Jon.”_

_The child him listened intently as the story was woven out for him so vividly that Jon could almost imagine himself being there._

_“Sadly, even the most prosperous of cultures are not meant to last forever. The day came when the Doom descended upon them. No one knows what the source of the tragedy was, or if there was anything that could have been done to stop it. All that is known is that when it came, there was no hope for survival. First came the earthquakes that split the ground beneath them, and the hills around them open. Then the hot air that punctured through the grounds. Then shortly after came the fire, and the eruptions of volcanoes. Tidal waves three hundred feet high battered against the freehold, storms of ash and flame rained down on the poor people of Valyria. It was as if the gods themselves came to smite the city._

_Poor little Jon never could handle this part of the story. He listened on hinged breath and brought his sheets higher, the story now reaching it’s climax._

_“Water, earth, fire, and air. All together in a single night these forces laid waste for Valyria, and all who lived within. By the time the dawn had come not a trace of the once proud freehold was left. In a single night, the greatest city that ever was or ever will be, was destroyed. It is said that the doom still rules over the ruins of Valyria. No man, no matter how brave, or skilled has dared to ever go near the ruins. For it is said that any who gaze upon the doom, are doomed to a painful and horrid end!”_

_The story had scared Jon as a child, and now here he was sailing the very ruins he heard about as a child. Though as he gazed about the ruins Jon had to admit to himself, there was something cursed about this place._

_“We should not be here. This is no place for mortal men.”_

_Jon turned to see Theric walking over to join him and the others by the side of the boat. The captain had not been happy with the decision to sail through the ruins, but had done so none the less. When they first gazed upon the shores Jon remembered that Theric and many of his crew on the ship had given prayers of protection for themselves. Part of Jon felt that he and his brothers had been left out of the sailors prayers._

_“Is not but stone and grass captain, there is no danger here good sir.”_

_“Oh you naive greenhorn, what do you know of the world, of the evils that it holds.”_

_“Enough that old superstition doesn’t frighten me nearly as much as it does men who have lived far longer than me.”_

_“And seen far more than you have you wet behind the ears little-” Theric was cut off by the sound of something big falling into the water._

_All hands on deck turned to the source of the sound, but could not see anything through the smoke that filled the waters they sailed. Durand joined Jon’s side as he readied his hammer for possible conflict. Caius on the other hand was much calmer. His hand was ever so gently hovering over the pommel of his sword as he descended down onto the deck._

_“Captain, have we any notion as to the cause of that splash sir?”_

_“No Lord Caius, no idea where that came from.”_

_While they continued to ponder over what it might have been, Caius ordered all men be on alert and weapons at the ready. Theric meanwhile set out to quicken their voyage through these accursed ruins, making to the rear of the ship to signal the others to hasten their speed. While this was happening, Jon had crossed over to the very front of the ship, in hopes of being able to see if they were any closer to escaping this accursed smoke. It happened in moments. First Jon looked to his faithful companion Ghost, and saw that his blood red eyes were aglow, and he was beginning to growl at something. When Jon turned he saw briefly a figure in the smoke charging at him. Quick like lightning, he drew his blade and sank it into his attacker’s beef, severing the head from the body._

_The severed head landed on the ground with a crash, then rolled till it came to the center of the deck. As the others came to see what was happening the smoke then began to lighten, and they gazed upon the sight of the head. A horrid thing mangled, and covered in skin gray like stone. They all knew what it was._

_“STONEMEN!!”_

_All at once the men drew their weapons as more of the cursed devils dropped down onto their ship. From the broken arches and towers to the shores even, they came at them by the dozens. The sounds of some jumping into the water could be heard, and you could see them climbing aboard from the sides of the ship; they were being swarmed by these monsters._

_“DON’T LET THEM TOUCH YOU, NO MATTER WHAT!!”_

_Caius’ orders rang loud and clear to everyone. The soldiers and sailors alike fought for their lives against the stonemen. Deformed creatures the lot of them, they cared not for the weapons drawn or swung at them, they pressed on attacking the men with not a care for themselves._

_Jon was cutting another head clean off it’s shoulders when he saw Durand send one flying over the edge with his hammer. His compatriot seemed to have not a care as he swung his hammer about, knocking the stonemen off the boat, or caving their chests completely. On occasion he also broke jaws from their heads with a swing._

_Caius and the captain stood well against the stonemen as well. Theric favored a long sword, giving him reach, and the ability to cut through his enemies, while Caius took up a spear for even longer range, spearing, and knocking any who tried getting close to him or anyone near him._

_After killing another, Jon watched as one of his fellow Brave Swords was grabbed from behind by two of the stonemen, and dragged off the side of the boat into the water. Another had managed to drive his sword into the stoneman’s heart, but the creature grabbed his arm in the process, and reached out the touch his face. Poor fellow, he took his sword from the stoneman’s chest and drove it right through his own heart._

_It was often said that death was preferred to life with greyscale. As Jon could see, that was obviously the case._

_As the fight continued, the Stonemen slowly dwindling down to nothing, Jon was almost caught off guard by one. It came a frog’s hair away from touching him, but the young sellsword was that much faster, and flung himself backwards, falling into a roll as he came pressed against the side of the ship. The Stoneman followed and looked ready to lunge at him. All Jon could do was hold out his sword as he was cornered by the beast. But before it could near him, Theric appeared from the smoke and drove his blade through the back of the stoneman. Removing it quickly, he looked to Jon and asked quickly of him if he was alright._

_“You greenhorn, I told you you knew nothing of this place, of the evils that lived in it.”_

_They were both surprised when the captain was blindsided and knocked to the ground. A stoneman was on top of him, and reaching out to grasp the fallen captain. Theric wouldn’t go down easily though. His sword was knocked away, but he grabbed a piece of wood and held off the stoneman with it. It kept reaching out to grab him, but was kept just out of reach of it’s prey._

_“You’ll not be getting me you damn demon, you’ll not get me!”_

_Finally the standoff ended when Jon appeared and took the stoneman’s head from it’s shoulders, and it rolled onto the floor of the deck. The rest of the body slumped down, and almost on top of Theric, but the old captain managed to roll away before it landed on him. When he got to his knees Jon offered Theric a hand, but the captain refused._

_Once the battling had finally dies down, Jon and his fellow commanders came together to assess their losses. At least three men had been dragged into the water, and another six lay dead among the ship. Caius ordered the bodies to be moved with care to the front of the ship, not taking chance that they could be infected. Once they were in Meereen they would properly see to the bodies. Theric suggested throwing them all overboard, but Caius would not hear of it._

_“These are our brothers, and some of your own men. They deserve better than that. We will tread with the utmost care in the meanwhile. Then once we arrive we will properly deal with the bodies.”_

_Theric had no argument for Caius, only grunted, and returned to the helm of the ship. Hours later they finally exited Valyria’s cursed waters, returning to the free and open ocean, escaping the smoking sea, and the demons that dwell there, behind. Over the next couple of days Caius and Jon and Durand spoke with one another about the encounter with the stonemen. To find maybe a handful would not have been unforeseeable, but there were dozens of the infected bastards. Why were there so many of them?_

_Durand spoke to hearing of how all throughout the east of rumors that stonemen were being removed from their nestings, and driven out with arrows and fire. It would seem the devils found a home in the one place no one would be stupid enough to dare entering...except them._

_About a day passed since they returned to open waters. Their men has been treading carefully the last could of days due to the deceased being kept contained below deck. All precautions were taken. Constantly the men were being powdered and cleansed to ensure of no infection. Theric made more complaints that they should throw the bodies over the side, even offering to do so by himself._

_Caius would not listen to the man. He would not desecrate the bodies of his brothers like that. They were his men and would be put to rest as is proper for their traditions._

_Finally after several more days at sea, they saw it , the shores of Meereen but miles off ahead of them._

_Caius sent a man to inform Captain Theric of their imminent arrival, but instead was greeted with sad tidings. The three sellsword commanders cautiously entered the captain’s cabin to find the man had hanged himself in the night. Immediately they took note of the greyscale marks on his forearm, and on his back. The man must have contracted the disease when he saved Jon on the ship, a fact that left a mark of it's own on the young sellsword._

_Carefully they cut him down, and once they arrived on shore, they moved him and the rest of the deceased onto the deck of the ship, once the rest of the crew had disembarked. Once they were ashore, and once again properly disinfected, Caius and the others made arrangements to lay to rest all those they had lost._

Jon was roused from his thoughts by the coming of a messenger from the city.

The freedman handed over to Caius a scroll before he turned right around and ran back into Meereen’s walls.

“The Mother of Dragons awaits us for an audience with her immediately.”

“Then we should not disappoint her,” Kazim’s smooth voice said.

They quickly began their march towards the city, but Jon lingered behind for a few moments more.

“Jon, you coming?”

Jon turned to his brother and friend Durand, nodding as he turned back to the water and kneeled down to scoop a handful of dirt. Then he slowly released it into the water, muttering under his breath as he did so.

“May your rest be peaceful, and to your liking.”

Rising up, Jon whistled for Ghost, who came jogging over to him, and then followed after Caius and the others towards the gates of Meereen.

xXx

The Great Pyramid of Meereen

There they knelt, the five men who commanded the army that had arrived on her doorstep all those weeks ago. From up on her seat she had waited for them alongside her protectors, and her trusted councilors both. An hour had gone by since she had sent word for the Brave Swords commanders to appear and be heard, and for a moment she thought they wouldn’t show. Perhaps their funeral process would require for them to take a period of mourning, or as Daarios Naharis suggested, celebrating their deceased brothers? Then there they were, five men of different ages, races, and origins standing before her. So different they looked from one another yet one common factor uniting them...they were fighters.

The first she took note of was the one at the forefront of the five. A man some forty plus years she imagined, his hair cut extremely short, and coal black. His armor was a bright silver plating with a intricate design of a winged beast upon it, similar were the arm braces he wore on either side of his arms. Underneath the armor he wore black leathers, and had a long sheathed blade strapped to his side.

The one to her right was seemingly of a similar age, only his skin was a much darker tan compared to the slightly common pale of the first sellsword. His hair was long and flowing like the night, but was tied into a long braid in a similar fashion to what the Dothraki did, only his was still somewhat short, and without any bells. He wore all dark silks and clothing on his person, a light chest armor over his clothing alone could be seen, and at his side was a great black bow unlike any she had seen since her days with the Dothraki, back when she was still but a timid child.

The next was a hulking figure, large and build like an ox, and was at least a head taller than the previous two. He wore no armor on him now, but carried with him a massive war hammer that he had strapped to his back. His hair was short compared to the former, but shone like glass, and was slicked back, his small beard on chin, and the mustache on his lip gave him a more refined look than the rest of his appearance gave off.

The last two were simpler by far. The first was a tall dark skinned man. Not as tall as the giant before, but taller than the other sellswords to be sure. A tattered leather chest plate was the only armor he wore upon his torso, save for the leather arm guards that went with the chest plate. Daenerys noted that while the others wore boots or leather shoes, this one instead chose sandals to cover his feet. At his side a long spear stood at the ready, unlike his fellow sellswords who were much more relaxed, he seemed to be less so, as if expecting an ambush to befall them.

Then finally was the youngest of the bunch. A man no older than twenty years. He was the most stark contrast to the rest. He skin was a white unlike the others, his hair long and black, and dressed similar to other companions in a shirt of dark silk with no sleeves, black finger less gloves, and black pants and boots. On his back were a pair of two swords shorter than most knights would use, and even more surprising was the large albino wolf that stood panting at the young man’s side.

The one at the front of the five took a step forward before he spoke.

“I am Caius, Lord Commander of the Company of Brave Swords! With me are my most trusted lieutenants, and brothers-in-arms; Kazim, Durand, Luthor, and Jon! We come before you as both friends and allies, with no ill will in our hearts!”

To prove his point, Caius unstrapped his sword from his side, an action followed by the other after, and all five placed their weapons on the ground before her.

Once they had done so, the leader Caius knelt first before her, then the other four followed.

After a moment of silence, Daenerys waved her hand slightly, and Little Missandei stepped forward and spoke.

“You stand before Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, The First of Her Name, The Unburnt, The Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.”

“Quite a lovely batch of titles she’s got there,” the large one could barely be heard muttering. The young dark-haired youth drove his elbow into the giant's side.

After a minute passed Daenerys addressed the five sellswords, “You may rise.”

After they had done so Daenerys spoke to them again.

“Lord Caius is it? Tell me again why it is they you and your sellswords have come to Meereen?”

Caius looked to Kazim, who nodded slightly, before he answered the mother of dragons.

“Your grace, forgive me if I sound insolent, but you were already told by now of our intentions here have you not?” Daenerys nodded her head. “Yes I was, but I want you to tell me once more, from your own two lips...why...are...you...here?”

Caius was silent for a few moments, scanning the room filled with Unsullied, knights, and sellswords alike. All of them united in the protection of their queen. A queen who was doubtlessly questioning the validity of their claims of allegiance to her. So again, Caius explained to her their purpose for being here in Meereen.

“Months ago your grace, me and my brothers had just finished campaigning in the free cities. A hard won victory, and an even more deserved rest was needed for me and my men. When we returned to Braavos, we had intended to rest and recuperate after long months of fighting and bleeding on the battlefield. That was when Myself and my brothers were engaged on behalf of an old acquaintance of yours...Magister Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos.”

Recognition flashed in Dany’s eyes at the name, and The Wyvern Lord saw it.

“At his invitation, the five of us met him in secret on a boat in the middle of the Harbor of Braavos. Where there he told us a story about a young girl, and three dragons. About how the girl who was sold to a Dothraki warlord by her brother had walked through fire, and brought dragons back into our world. About how this child with but three dragons went from having nothing, no lands, titles, or armies, to gaining all three of them in the short span of a few years. He spoke of a Queen that could, and deserved to rule, one that would finally do what was right by the realm...and he also spoke of the dangers to her life.”

Ser Barristan spoke up at that point, “Dangers? What sort of Dangers do you refer to Lord Caius?”

“I speak good Ser of the many enemies that Queen Daenerys had made, and of their efforts to destroy her. I speak of the massive enemy horde that is gathering as we speak, to lay siege to Meereen, and bring low the Mother of Dragons.”

The shock was plain on all of their faces. Some filled with doubt at the validity of his claims, but there was no denying the shadow of fear that briefly passed over Dany’s face. Queen she might be, mother to dragons she might be, but she was still a young mother, and even younger queen.

Jon from his place down below looked to the young queen, and saw her troubled expression. When they had first entered and Jon took in the sight of Daenerys Targaryen, he could not help but bask in the splendor of her radiance. Were it not for years of trained discipline drilled into him, he would have stood there looking at her like a simpleton. What a great first impression to her defenders that would make.

After the news of the approaching danger to her, Daenerys looked to her trusted companions who stood by her sides, and then back down to the sellswords below.

“What proof is there of this supposed gathering of enemies you speak of?”

“Aside from the word and reports from the Magister himself your grace, I also dispatched several riders of my own. Several weeks after Luthor and Kazim arrived with the main host they too arrived. They brought news of all that Magister Illyrio spoke of to be true, and even worse as well.”

Worse, why how could it get worse? Unfortunately for Dany, Caius was about to show her just how much.

“In addition to the ten thousand men of the golden company, who have been contracted to lead the assault, other companies such as the company of the cat, the golden tooth, and a sizeable force of soldiers from New Ghis as well have gathered at Qohor. And more come each and every day.”

This news was most distressing. Daenerys seemed more composed than she surely was. Then again, how does one handle news that a large invasion force is assembling, and plans to march to your gates and kill you and all who follow you? Suffice it to say, remaining calm was working well for the young queen.

“Your grace, this is an army forged for a single purpose. To lay siege to Meereen, and kill all within her walls.”

“I am surprised that you were not also approached by these enemies of our Queen. Did they not think you good enough?”

The unmistakable tone of Daario Naharis was as memorable to the five sellswords as the scar Durand received from Daario’s ank some years back. Durand probably would have charged up those steps and choked the life out of Daario, Unsullied spears be damned, had Jon not placed a hand on his friend’s large arm. A warning for him to keep his temper in check, and remember where they were. It was Caius who answered Daario.

“You of all people should know that no matter how enticing the offer they might have given, we would never have agreed to work with the likes of the Golden Company. The world will face the second coming of the Doom before we’d even consider such a course of action, and even after that would rather burn than join hands with them.”

Daario became silent after this. Once again the sellsword gathered his thoughts before speaking once more to the Queen.

“We are an ancient brotherhood of warriors, guided by simple tenants that move us in our decisions, and actions. We accepted the contract from Magister Illyrio, and are bound by duty and by honor to uphold our end, and fight for the Mother of Dragons. You may choose to welcome us, and we will fight to the last man if that is what you wish. Reject us, and we will wait for your enemies outside your walls, and will die fighting to the last man for you regardless. We are the Brave Swords, and our vows are stronger than steel. It is for Daenerys Stormborn we have sworn to fight for, and so we shall. This is our word!”

At the end of his speech not a single person spoke. Moments passed by, and not a word was spoken. Finally the Queen of Meereen stood from her seat, and descended down the stairs. At her sides were her ever faithful knight, and the equally deadly sellsword as she came down to stand before the five sellswords. She looked them all over, and then she looked to Caius and asked him simply:

“Will you all fight for me?”

“No your grace...we will die for you.”

“Swear it to me.”

Without missing a beat, Caius dropped to his knees, followed by his fellow commanders, and then picked up his discarded sword and drew it forth. Laid stretched out with both hands, he placed the blade before her feet, and then placed a hand to his heart.

“My sword, my brothers swords, all five thousand of our swords are your Queen Daenerys. From this moment until all your enemies lay dead, the Brave Swords fight for the Mother of Dragons, and no one else.”

This pleased Daenerys greatly to hear, more so how the other four followed suit and laid their weapons before her also. Smiling in content, Dany turned around and re-ascended up the stairs, and took her seat once again.

“Then rise my Brave Swords, rise and stand with us please.”

Jon and the others quickly stood before the young queen, their leader addressing her right after.

“Your grace, now that this has all been straightened out, there are a few matters I would like to discuss with you.”

“Oh, and what would those be Lord Caius?”

“Aside from preparing this city for a siege, I would like to speak to you about your own safety my queen.”

Her safety? Did he not see her unsullied guards that protected her city, these very halls? What of Ser Barristan, a knight of such skill and reputation, or even Daario Naharis and his reputation as a fierce killer?

“Why sir? What more protection do I need than my unsullied, or Ser Barristan, or The Stormcrows and their leader?”

Daario grinned at that last remark, and Durand felt an urge swell up in him to march over and knock out every tooth in purple-bearded face.

“No disrespect meant, but we know the men that are coming for you better than anyone else in the world. As skilled and as legendary as your defenses are, it will not stop them from penetrating into the heart of this city, and getting closer to you than they should. So with that said, I wish to assign one of my own to act as your personal guard, to keep with you at all time, and to see to your safety.”

At first she seemed like she was about to protest, but Caius cut her off before she could.

“I beseech you your grace...It will make preparing for the imminent battle easier knowing one of my own was standing guard over you.”

She thought about it for a few moments more before she finally gave her consent. Nodding in gratitude to her, Caius raised his right arm and gestured to the young dark-haired youth to his right to come join him. Standing next to his fellow commander, Caius introduced the youth as Jon, commander of the fifth division of the Brave Swords.

“One of my finest your grace,” Caius said as he presented Jon before her. “He will serve you well.”

To this Jon brought his hand to his chest as a salute, gazing upon the young queen, and she him. As he looked into her amethyst eyes, and she his solemn grays, each could not help but think that there was far more to the other than could be believed. Both so oblivious to just how intertwined their fates would be, as this was but the beginning to something grand. Something that would shake the foundations of the world, and change everything as they knew it, forever.

xXx

Qohor

The Ruins of Ar Noy

Once these stones were the very foundation of a great city of Qohor, but now they were a pile of ruins, empty of any wealth, and devoid of all life...for a time. Currently the ancient city hosted a large gathering of sellswords, and other irrefutable characters from all around the east. Among the countless tents raised, a wide variety of sellsword companies could be found. The black goat standard of the Brave companions alongside the Stormbreakers, and the Company of the Cat could be seen. Fierce warriors one and all, led by men even more dangerous than they men they commanded. In addition to the hundreds, and the thousands of sellswords that could be found, there also was a sizeable force of soldiers, compliments of New Ghis for the campaign against Meereen. But the cream of the crop came from the encampments of the Golden Company, situated slightly away from the rest of the army.

The Ten Thousand golden warriors of the Bittersteel were known and feared throughout the east. No finer company of warriors could be found in this part of the world, their lives were battle, and none were better raised for such a life than these men. While the pure golden standards of the Golden company filled the many tents their forces occupied, it was deeper inside the ruined city of Ar Noy that the Captain-General made his camp. Raised among the ruined stone and pillars was raised a tent of pure gold, and within it the officers of the Golden Company were gathered together in council for the battle that lay ahead of them.

Some months ago the Golden Company had been in the midst of a campaign against a large Dothraki horde, a costly venture that bled much gold and lives from their treasures and their ranks. It was then that a messenger from far away lands had approached them, and contracted the sellswords to battle against the Mother of Dragons, and her forces that dwell within the city of Meereen. Originally their Captain-General had no real interest in the offer, but his mind was quickly changed by his client, and he eagerly accepted the contract.

And so now here he and all of his officers sat gathered, fine food and drink their at the leisure as they scrolled over parchment and maps, detailed records of their growing numbers, supplies, weapons, and other such information. The officers gathered together were decked in their golden armors, golden bands dressed their arms, to show their years of service, and a whole other assortment of fine jewels and precious stones on their person. It was said that the officers of the Golden Company each wore on their persons a king’s ransom in jewels and gold.

Whilst discussing the matters of the upcoming war with Meereen, one officer addressed the rest of the men.

“This report, it cannot be true!? How and the hell could she have so readily acquired a considerable force like the Brave Swords?”

Another man, a white-haired archer with skin black as soot, answered his fellow officer.

“It is true Franklyn. It would appear that the young queen has someone watching over her. Enough so that they would hire for her a sizeable force of skilled warriors to better protect her.”

The now named Ser Franklyn Flowers, also called the Bastard of Cider Hill, grunted in annoyance as he crumbled the scroll in his massive hand.

“Black Balaq speaks the truth. How else could the Dragon Bitch have the Brave Swords already on her tits to protect her, even before we have begun to march for Meereen.” Another officer, one Marq Mandrake spoke, and raised his ale to his brother-in-arms. The now named Balaq reciprocated the gesture with his own ale. As the officers in the tent continued discussing the disturbing developments in Meereen, one in their midst yet held his tongue. At the far end of the table, situated at the head, a man some thirty odd years, maybe even younger, sat in silence.

Unlike the other officers in this tent, this one did not wear jewels or other such splendor upon himself or his armor. He simply wore the golden armor that was standard for their company, and the golden bands on his arm, signifying his years of service to the company. His raven black hair complimented the darker tan of his skin, giving him an almost dark appearance against his shining golden armor.

As the men continued to squabble and speak over the unforeseen development with the Brave Swords, this one man decided that enough was enough, and raised his hand up, and smashed his fist onto the table, gaining everyone’s attention at once. For a moment he let his hand lay on the table, then he brought it and folded his hand on top of the other one in a calmer manner as he addressed the other officers.

“Unforeseen developments happen all the time my friends. We should not let the involvement of one simple sellsword company unravel us as much as it is doing right now.”

A knight named Ser Tristan Rivers spoke up at this, “My Commander, these are the Brave Swords we speak of. Their very involvement jeopardizes our whole battle plan sir. They know us as well as we do ourselves. How we move, how we think what we are likely to do! I would say that their involvement is a great cause for concern sir-.”

“Then you would be wrong Ser Rivers.”

The Bastard knight quieted as his commander continued addressing them all.

“Yes it is true they know us well, but the same is true that we also know them well. We know that they will be expecting of us, and we know how they will prepare in kind. With that in mind the matter becomes simply being the first to surprise the other before they wisen up to what is going on.” The officers nodded in agreement, picking from their plates, and drinking their ale and wine. Their Commander had a grin on his face as a thought popped into his head.

“When I was a young man...well...younger, I was taught that on the battlefield, victory can be determined in a single instant. It could be right at the beginning, or it could be days into the fighting. All it takes is that one moment...and victory can be won, or lost. I don’t know about the rest of you gentlemen, but I aim to seize victory,” He raised his golden chalice to a toast. “And to seize all the splendor and glory that comes with the victory!”

Laughter broke through the tent as one by one they each raised to toast with their leader.

“To riches and glory,” one cried out!

“To a victory well fought and well earned,” shouted another!

“To all the fine spoils we shall enjoy, from the riches, the wines, and most importantly, the women,” one more hollered! The others all laughed the harder, smashing their goblets with the man's, as they drank in earnest.

The Commander drank in modesty compared to the others, scanning over the contents of a scroll as he did. He was halfway through it when the coming of a new addition to their tent. The red robes of his company spymaster signaled to him to call an end to this officer's meeting.

“Brothers I believe it is time we adjourn. We will continue preparations on the morrow.”

They all nodded in understanding, and one by one exited their commander's tent until only the Commander and his spymaster were left. Pouring his guest a glass of wine, the red robed man slipped into the seat to the right of the Commander. Accepting the wine he was then offered, the man pulled back the hood to his robes, and revealed a very feminine-looking man, with white-golden and lilac eyes. One could almost be forgiven for mistaking him for a woman.

“Lysono, what news do you have for me this night?”

The now named Lysono Maar reached into his role and handed a wrapped up scroll to the commander. As he opened, and scanned the contents, Lysono partook of his wine. After finishing, the Commander placed it down on the table before turning back to Lysono.

“So that’s how it is huh? First he wants one thing, and now he wants this? Were he not on the other side of the world I would surely take his head for asking so much of me and my men.”

“Yet here we are sir. Gathering together with a large group of unsightly rogues from all across the east. Men who live for battle, exiled lords and knights, slavers, slave soldiers, and of course our own modest cadre of warriors. All of this at the whims of a client far away from here. Begrudge the situation how you like sir, but it is what it is.”

The Commander grunted at that, but had to admit the sage truth the spymaster spoke. There were times he believed that Lysono belonged in a whore house, and then there were times that he viewed that the man should be involved in the politics of the west. He’d surely give the westerosi nobles a run for their money with his quick whit, and sharper mind.

Pouring the two of them another glass, Lysono told him of other news, this time from the camp.

“I am told that infighting almost broke out between the soldiers from New Ghis, and the Company of the Cat. They came close to shedding blood.”

The Commander groaned, and took a large gulp from the goblet as Lysono continued.

“Indeed, and it probably would have gotten worse had it not been for one of our new recruits. Funny little man, looks nothing like a soldier, but managed to calm the situation down among the two parties in question.” He sipped from his cup for a moment before he added, “Then again it could have been the appearance of his burly friend that halted the others from fighting. I admit with a face as marked as his was, I too would take a moment of pause to take in such a ferocious sight.”

“Ferocious sight...you must speak of the westerosi knight and his dwarf companion who joined us a moon back.”

“Indeed my lord. Both are quite the striking figures to behold, but strangely enough they work well in concert. When the quick whit and smooth talking of the ugly dwarf fails, the ferocious sight of his burly knight moves in instead. I say those two might come to be quite the pair in our company. I expect we’ll be having a great many things from the two of them.”

“Yes...great things indeed.”

A moment of silence passed between the two, not a word spoken until Lysono spoke again.

“My lord, I know it is not my place, but I feel the need to ask. Are you not concerned about the development with the Brave Swords? To the others they are merely our bitter rivals, but you...for you it’s completely different.”

The Commander took his goblet, and rose from his seat, turning behind him to a large map that detailed all of Essos before him. His gaze fell upon the map where a golden pin was stuck through the location of Meereen. He took another gulp before placing the goblet down on a barrel next to the map.

“To be honest Lysono, I find my thoughts on the situation to be conflicted. A part of me is frustrated by this development, but is fully prepared to handle it. The other part though...I suppose the other part finds itself excited at what is to come.”

The Spymaster nodded as he listened on, his Commander fingering a dagger at his side as he gazed upon the map. It was a habit of his for as long as Lysono has known him. It shows that the Commander is anxious to spill blood on the battlefield.

“The greatest war in the east is soon upon us, and we will be at the heart of it. My blood races at such a prospect.” He grinned as he turned around to look at Lysono. “In but a few months time we will be long on our way to Meereen, and when we arrive there will be only one course of action for us.”

Quick as a flash he turned around and buried his dagger into the part of the map marked slaver's bay, a cruel smile gracing his otherwise handsome face.

“We kill them all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry once again for my delay. some weeks ago a friend of mine, a close friend, passed away. His death has been hitting me very hard, and has been affecting my muse and myself personally. Even now it has been difficultto write, but I owed it to my fans and reviewers to publish a new chapter. So here we are. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and eagerly await the next installment. 
> 
> Though you never know when that might be.
> 
> *Insert Jabba the Hut laughter*


	5. The Players Gather: The Sellsword, The Imp, and the Captive Wolf.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow guards his Queen, Tyrion Drinks, and Sansa dreams of what could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any mistakes you guys find in here. I was WAY overdue with a new chapter, and might have rushed a tiny bit.

xXx

Meereen

Jon had guarded many sorts of important individuals over the years during his time with the Brave Swords. He’d guarded and watched over princes, triarchs, merchants, guild leaders, diplomats, and every sort of official you could possibly think of in between. He had guarded a man once who spent the entire time he was under Jon’s protection stuffing his face with more food than some people eat in an entire year. Another spent his time going about his business as if nothing was wrong during the day, then come night act as though the others themselves were coming after him. He ever guarded a man once who held himself up in his manse and fucked all the servant girls while waiting for his would-be assassins.

Yes he had protected them all, yet never would he think that guarding a Queen could be so...trying.

By trying he does not mean following her about on her daily routine of attending court, and hearing out petitioners. No that he has no problem with. In fact it gave him the chance to witness this young queen act in action. For the most of it, she seemed quite confident, and easily able to deal with the situations that came her way. On the off chance she came across an issue that gave her pause, the sage council of her trusted “Ser Grandfather” as Durand had come to calling Ser Barristan, helped her in her final decisions.

The trying bit didn’t even come from the on and off visits she would make through Meereen. Since the news broke that the Golden Company was making for Meereen, you better believe the populace was rather concerned, freedman and master alike. So to placate their fears she had taken to going through the great city, and appearing before her people.

The former slaves all loved her, worshiped her would probably be a more accurate description to their feeling for Daenerys. To them she was a goddess who as come to liberate them all from their suffering. He can still hear them shouting Mhysa as she passed their way.

To be so loved by so many people was an amazing sight to behold. Surely if that was what defined a ruler then Daenerys was born to be a queen.

No, what had been trying his patience was having to suffer the Queen’s choice in bedmates. Having to stand guard night after night and watch Daario Naharis pass through the hall to the queen’s chambers with that shit-eating grin, and have to listen to him and the queen in the throws of passion. That my friends is just the one thing that years of combat never prepares you for.

And tonight was going to be no different. Daario was already inside, and already he could hear the two of them as they enjoyed one another. Were it not for the years of mental training that Kazim had drilled into his head as a young boy, Jon thought for sure he’d go raving mad.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall broke him from his thoughts, and Jon looked to see an old knight walking towards him.

Speaking of Ser Grandfather, here he was now.

Ser Barristan nodded Jon’s way as he made his way to him. Jon did the same in return. Barristan obviously was here to see the queen, but seeing as she was currently entertaining a guest he was going to have to wait. Minutes flew by in silence, save for the sounds coming from the Queen’s chambers, before Barristan finally spoke.

“This must be routine for you by now.”

Jon looked to the elder knight and grinned, “Which part? Standing here all night guarding her chambers, or listening to them in bed?”

Ser Barristan actually seemed to flush a little before clearing his throat.

“It’s not all that bad actually Ser Barristan. Sure I’m not crazy about having to stick around to hear Daario pleasure our queen, but for the most part serving as Queen Daenerys’ shadow is a role I am pleased to play.”

Another grin returned to his face as he whispered the next part to the old knight.

“That and this never lasts TOO long, if you know what I mean.”

It took but a moment for what Jon said to register to the old knight, and he has to muffle a chuckle from slipping past his lips. Jon had no problem letting out a silent laugh at Daario’s unknowingly expense. As the two of them stood there silently chuckling at Daario Naharis, Jon could not help but look at the living legend that was but a few feet from him. Even now he could remember the first time he had ever heard the name of Barristan the Bold.

Many many years ago, long before Jon’s time, the last of the Blackfyre pretenders, Maelys Blackfyre had begun gathering together a large force in another bid by his clan to conquer Westeros. Long ago the first Blackfyre split the west in two when he first claimed the iron throne for himself, and now generations later, his descendants were once again trying to finish what Daemon Blackfyre had started. Maelys had slain his cousin Daemon for control of the golden company, while his last remaining kin Daegon had willingly submitted to him. He gathered eight other like minded, and ambitious men to his side, all desiring to rise higher than ever thought possible. These men would come to be known as the Band of Nine.

But even their forces were not enough. Maelys, seeking even greater strength, reached out to the golden company’s most bitter of rivals, the Company of the Brave Swords. Maelys sent invitations out to the lord commander of the time, a fierce warrior named Alden Swifthammer, with hopes to win him and his forces over to the Blackfyre cause. When Alden arrived he was greeted as though he had been a long lost friend, returned at last. No expense was wasted on the feast provided for him. He ate Blackfyre’s meat, drank his sweet wine, and enjoyed the pleasurable company offered to him and his officers. All of this so he would listen to the offer presented to him by the Blackfyre pretender.

“Come and fight with us, come and grow rich with us, come and rise higher with us. Together, we shall bring an empire to it’s knees, and all live as kings.”

The Band of Nine would toast and cheer at Maelys words, but not Alden. It is said that once Maelys finished talking that Alden would finish his goblet of wine, stand to his feet, lift up one leg, and farted loud and long. Once he was done he looked to the warlords and told them.

“Fuck kingdoms, fuck crowns, and fuck you you ugly two headed bastard.”

Alden Swifthammer and his officers departed from the feast, Maelys vowing revenge and untold pain upon the lord commander and his men. Threats that would never come to pass.

Over time news reached that Maelys and his Band of Nine had been defeated by the Targaryen forces. Even more so that is had been a knight named Barristan Selmy who slew the Monster in single combat. Alden and his men all toasted that night to Ser Barristan’s health.

Years later and still the name of the bold had a lingering taste of respect among each and every member of the Brave Swords. Even Jon could remember as a boy, still squiring for Caius, had dreamed that he was the great knight Barristan Selmy, that he slew Maelys the Monstrous, and it was his name his brothers cheered and toasted to. But that was a long time ago now, things change, and so to do people.

Jon’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt something nudging against his leg. There Ghost was, the quiet beast that he was, sitting next to Jon, looking as alert as Jon should have been. He hadn’t even noticed his direwolf’s appearance, the beast was always moving around without making a sound, ever silent like his namesake. Bending down Jon stroked Ghost’ fur a couple of times, then his nose. Of all of Jon’s companions and friends, none were half as loyal to him as Ghost had proven to be. There was a bond there, beyond what even they knew. It was like they were one and the same sometimes...Jon certainly thought so.

He stood back up just as Daario was exiting the Queen’s chambers. Seeing the two standing outside, the sellsword grinned and looked at them both.

“Don’t worry gentlemen, our queen is still very wide awake. Made sure I didn’t wear her out too much.”

“That’d be a first,” Jon whispered under his breath, but still loud enough for Daario and Barristan to hear. While his fellow sellsword frowned at his comment, the old knight turned his face to the side so as not to show a smile growing on his lips. Daario decided not to press the matter, only looked to Jon and licked the tips of his fingers before walking off. Jon merely shook his head, and smiled when he saw Ghost lying down and covering his eyes with his paws.

“Yeah boy, I wish I didn’t have to see that either.”

Once Daario was out of sight, Jon promptly escorted Ser Barristan inside the Queen's chambers.

Upon entering, they two found Daenerys sitting on a lounge chair, wrapped tightly in a light green robe. Her hair was slightly a mess, it looked like she had tried to do something with it, her lips were slightly red, and she honestly sounded a little winded. Pouring herself a glass of wine she turned to address the two.

“Ser Barristan, what brings you here this late at night?”

“Forgive me my queen, I had no idea that you were entertaining a...guest. If I had known I would have come calling at another time.”

Daenerys waved her hand at that, “no need for apologies good Ser, had I known you were here to see me I’d have sent Daario away earlier.”

Barristan smiled slightly before nodding to his queen, “As you say my queen.”

Jon looked between the two and could not help but picture an image of a father and daughter when he looked at the two of them. As Jon understood it Daenerys grew up with only an elder brother, and what a cunt he was. It was not hard to see how Daenerys could have taken to seeing Ser Barristan as a father-like figure. Jon had done the same thing long ago with Caius.

He smiled to think of his younger self as he was just starting out with the Brave Swords. He worked hard, listened well, and took to heart every word that came from Caius’ mouth. To hear the lord commander praise of boast of Jon’s progress was what Jon came to live for. He wanted Caius to be proud of him, to see that his kindness and charity in taking in an orphan boy was not unappreciated.

As the bold and the Queen began to speak, Jon slowly began to make his retreat out of the room, until Daenerys’ voice called out to him.

“Ser Jon, please hold a moment.”

Jon turned to the young queen and dropped to a knee before answering. “Yes my queen, what need do you have of me?”

“I would have you remain here, after all, you are my bodyguard are you not ser?”

Her smile shone brightly, he didn’t answer Daenerys, only looked to her and nodded before stepping back, and coming to rest against the wall. And there he remained, silent and unmoving, much like ghost was. As Barristan and Daenerys spoke upon matters of state, Jon once again became lost in thought, this time though, it was of the young queen herself.

Over the many moons now that Jon and his brothers had been in Meereen, there was no one else he had spent more time around then the Queen. A young woman maybe a year younger than Jon himself, yet a for more accomplished individual than he could have hoped to be. In the time he had spent as her personal guard, Jon had come to know Daenerys quite well.

They  began with casual conversations over the first few weeks, and then over time they had begun to speak more freely with one another. The more time he spent with Queen Daenerys, the more he began to really see the kind of woman that she was. Fearless was definitely a defining trait. Given all that she had been through in her life, she would have to be to walk down the path she had chosen. Caring was another of her traits, she cared greatly for the people of this city, for those born, and forced into slavery. She also cared greatly for those in her inner circle, his aid Missandei, Ser Barristan her general, her lover Daario Naharis even, and for the men fighting for her.

And of course she was beautiful, so much so even a blind man could tell that without having to see. Her silver hair, her amethyst eyes that shone like jewels in the dark, she shape of her body, of her lips...she was possibly the most beautiful woman Jon had even laid eyes on.

Then he lowered his head in shame, for at that moment another woman popped into his head, one he knew all too well. Her light chocolate skin, her dark brown hair, her amber eyes, and her swollen lips. He could recall every detail of her body at command, and how could he not? Back then he was young, in love, and she was the whole world to him. He could still remember that night on the Rhoyne, that one perfect night when it seemed like he no longer had anything he could ever desire. All because he had her.

_“This heart will only every beat for you Jon, and this body will only ever love you.”_

_“I am yours and you are mine, from this day until our last I will love only you.”_

_“I love you Jon...more than words can describe.”_

_“I love you.”_

He had to shake the memories from his mind, for whenever he thought of her, so too did the other memories follow too. Memories better left forgotten.

It must have been ages because the next thing Jon knew Ser Barristan was bidding his queen goodnight, and nodding to Jon as he exited the room. That just left him and the queen alone, and ghost to. Walking over towards a table near her bed she picked up a piece of meat and held it out for Ghost. Of course the direwolf would never pass on good meat, and so made his way over to the queen and happily accepted the delicious morsel of meat. As Ghost happily devoured his meal, Daenerys smiled and softly stroked his white fur.

“I cannot get over just how beautiful and soft his coat is. I would spend hours doing nothing but this Ser Jon.”

She looked up from Ghost and smiled at Jon. A rare half-smile appeared on Jon’s face as the queen returned to stroking Ghost’s beautiful fur.

The sight almost brought a chuckle to Jon as he recalled the first true encounter the Queen and his Direwolf had.

_It had been about three weeks since Daenerys had formally accepted the Brave Swords into her service, and only three weeks into Jon’s new position as the Queen’s personal guard. Back then the queen was still a little...guarded with Jon and the others, she certainly wasn’t as trusting of them as she was Daario or Ser Barristan._

_So one night while Jon was on duty, long after Daario had left the Queen for the night, a scream broke out through the hall. It had come from the Queen’s chambers._

_Racing down the corridor Jon burst in...and came upon the sight of Ghost on his front legs, leaning up on Daenerys’ bed. The young queen looked mortified as she was pressed against the back of her bed, the sheets drawn up, and a look of absolute terror on her face at the giant wolf that was looking at her._

_Jon entered the room calmly, something the queen was desperately trying to maintain herself. To be fair to her...Ghost was a REALLY big wolf, and he looked hungry._

_Her eyes were pleading with Jon to help her, that he do something about the direwolf. Looking around the room, Jon’s eyes landed on what he was sure was the cause of Ghost’s intrusion. Nodding to Daenerys, Jon crossed the room over to the corner near her lounge chair, and picked up a plate with meat on it. Walking over to the queen and knelled down beside the bed and held the plate to her._

_“Have no fear your grace, Ghost means you no harm at all. He only meant to ask for some of your meal.”_

_Daenerys looked to Jon like he was a mad man, but the sellsword showed her he was right. He held out his hand to her, asking for hers, and after a moment’s hesitation she complied. He took a small piece of meat from the plate and placed it in her hand. Then he instructed her to hold it out to Ghost, and tell him yes._

_She complied and did everything Jon told her to do. To her surprise she watched as the direwolf reached over, sniffed the meat in her hand, and then gently pick it from her palm with his teeth. Deciding to make himself comfortable on her bed, Ghost laid himself down as he began to devour the meat. As he did so Dany’s hand tentatively reached out to Ghost, but stopped short of the way. That was when Jon stepped in._

_Gently he took her hand in his and guided it out, and onto Ghost’s snow white fur. Gently they stroked it together, over and over again her hand glided across his magnificent fur, and then soon without her knowing, she was doing it all by herself, Jon’s hand having let go already. Ghost laid there, content to the soft stroking of his fir, while Daenerys began to smile and laugh at the creature. When Jon looked to her, the way she smiled and laughed, Jon thought she could have been no more than a child then, free of the burdens of ruling and of the enemies coming after her._

_When Jon left the queen and Ghost, and exited the chamber, he found Unsullied and his men in the corridor armed to the teeth. He told them there was nothing to worry about, that Daenerys was all right. After calming them down, the men dispersed and resumed their patrols, while Jon re-entered the Queen’s chamber and found her well asleep, with ghost next to her._

_Jon spoke not a word, only walked over towards the balcony to Daenery’s room, and looked out over the city, ever vigil for the hidden dangers that await them one day._

Since then Ghost had become something of a recurring guest for Daenerys, who always had a treat or two prepared for Ghost whenever she saw him. In fact, aside from Jon, Ghost had begun spending much of his time with Daenerys whenever they weren’t together.

As Ghost continued enjoying his treat, Dany looked to Jon and smiled.

“You have such a wondrous companion Ser Jon, I am almost jealous that may own children cannot be so tamed. Ghost must have been so fortunate to have you as his master.”

A shadow of a smile edged out on Jon’s face at the compliment. “I was surely the lucky one your grace. Were it not for that hairy wad of meat I would have been dead ten times over.”

He crossed over from his side of the room, and knelt down beside his faithful companion. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have him by my side,” his smile now fully visible as he stroked Ghost’s fur alongside Daenerys. As he did so the queen looked to the sellsword and smiled a bit. Daario had often described Jon to her as a solemn and quiet sort. Much like his direwolf sometimes. Yet it was moments like these where Daenerys saw another side to Jon, one not covered by an icy demeanour. This one was warm, and full of laughter and smiles.

She often imagined that this was the real Jon, and not the soldier he appears to be.

As they both continued absentmindedly stroking Ghost’s fur, Daenerys posed a question to Jon.

“So tell me good sir, how did you come to have such an incredible companion like ghost? I am told that Direwolves were suppose to have died out sometime ago.”

“It’s true, as far as most know Direwolves do not thrive in the North of Westeros anymore, but that’s where most people are also wrong. For they still yet live, Ghost is living proof.” Looking the queen in the face, Jon continued his tale as she lightly drank from her cup.

“Sometime ago me and my brothers had been contracted by Volantis to deal with raiders who were attacking caravans coming to and from the city. During one of the raids, I saved a triarch from certain death, and as gratitude he presented me with one of the rarest commodities he owned...a direwolf...Ghost.” He scratched his loyal friend behind his ear and smiled as the direwolf began to pant in appreciation. “We have been together ever since.”

Dany smiled as Jon told her his tale. It was a recurring theme of late. Ever so often after Daario would leave, she’d entertain Ghost with some treats, and Jon would share a tale of his time with the Brave Swords. His adventures varied from his excursions with fellow sellsword companies, most notably the Golden Company, to his past experience protecting people of importance from all over essos. He would play it off as though it were nothing of great importance, but to Daenerys his adventures rang of a hidden desire she herself wished she could experience.

Imagine, sailing as far and wide as Jon had, meeting and enjoying the best of the free cities as he and his brothers had, instead of having to constantly be on the run as she and her brother once did. She would never live such an adventurous life, she was a Queen, and a Queen’s duty was to rule her people. Such hidden wants and desires were of no real concern.

Despite that, as she listened to Jon’s tales night after night, it became the closest thing she could have to living out these wild dreams.

A taste of a life she would never know.

xXx

Qohor

Ruins of Ar Noy

What a wonderful situation Tyrion had gotten himself into once again. To think, not too long ago he was well on his way to a new life, free and clear from his rancid family; his hypocrite of a father, his whore of a sister, and his two-faced elder brother. He was to be well rid of them, with a new life ahead of him. Oh the best laid plans of mice and men and all that he supposed. Now he found himself serving as a member of the golden company, serving on hand and foot to the officers, and relaying whatever messages needed to be relayed throughout the camp.

Did that make him a squire, or was he more a cup bearer to them? Maybe a paige...who the hell knows

It didn’t matter to him, all that mattered to Tyrion was that he manage to live another day, and that meant doing his damn best not to piss off anyone he knew for sure could kill him...even the ones he wasn’t sure could kill him he still acted weary of.

So here he was, making his way across the encampment towards the lord commander’s tent, a bottle of arbor gold clutched in his tiny hands.Oh the temptation had been great he doesn’t mind saying, to get lost in the camp, and help himself to a glass or four, and then finding his way back to the lord commander’s tent. Unfortunately the reminder from the last time he helped himself to some wine was still throbbing even after a fortnight. So he decided best not to chance another, and quickly hurried towards the tent.

Upon arriving he found it to be mostly empty, save for the Lord Commander himself, and couple of his lieutenants. Tyrion cleared his throat to gain the attention of the officers present.

“Arbor Gold, uncorked and unspoiled, as requested my lord.”

The lord commander nodded before gesturing for Tyrion to open and pour him a glass.

Quickly moving about, Tyrion uncorked the bottle, and began to pour a glass for the commander, listening all the while as the officers began talking.

“Commander we need to move out now sir, we have been camped here for far too long. The men are getting restless, and the other companies aren’t going to stick around for much longer if nothing happens sir.”

The Lord Commander listened to his lieutenant, Franklyn Flowers, report to him about several infighting happening among the men. Of how Bloodbeard almost brought his men and theirs to battle. Then there was the soldiers from New Ghis, Tyrion didn’t even need to hear Flowers go on about them to know what a bunch of pompous cunts they were. So far no blood had been spilled in their camps, but if Tyrion was a betting man, then he would wager that the first blood drawn would crom from the Ghis cunts.

Distributing the wine among the officers, Tyrion continued to listen intently.

“Another two thousand men have arrived, which brings our numbers to well over forty thousand men now. Any more arrive, and I fear we will lack the proper amount of resources to feed everyone, let alone make the trip over to Meereen without losing maybe half our forces.” Tristan Rivers reported to his commander, and he took this news with silence.

When he did not answer them, Flowers spoke up once more.

“My Lord, what are we going to do sir? Do you really expect us to continue waiting around here? The men are close to breaking out in a riot sir. We NEED to take action soon, or we won’t have an army left!”

The Lord Commander sat in his chair deep in thought, his mind was processing what he had just been told. He was pensive for a few moments before he gestured to his spymaster at the other side of the tent to come over. He whispered something in his ear and the man nodded before exiting the tent. Once he had left the Lord Commander addressed the two lieutenants before him.

“Your right Ser Flowers, we have waited here long enough. That being said there is a reason for our waiting this long, but I see my hand is now forced.”

He gestured for the two men to look at the map before he spoke again.

“Flowers, I am giving you command of the Golden Teeth, Company of Cats, and the soldiers from New Ghis. That’s fifteen thousand if my math is correct. Take them and head to Meereen as our vanguard, and secure the path for us. You’ll leave at dawn, and we will follow in four days time.”

“With respect Commander, but it will be rather difficult to keep these men under control. It’s just as likely that they will try and kill each other on the road to Meereen, as they would the enemy.”

“Flowers is right sir,” Ser Rivers chimed in. “How do you expect for these men to march together without our men there to help keep them in line?

“Perhaps you should try a bit of diplomacy?”

All eyes in the room turned to look at the dwarf who realized too late that he had spoken a little too loud.

“Got something you want to say half man!?”

Tyrion shook his head and raised his hands in defense. “Forgive me my lords, I spoke without thinking. I’m usually much more quiet than that sir, I just don’t know what came over me. It will not happen again I vow.”

“Yes it will.”

The Lord Commander spoke, and everyone became silent. Standing from his chair he walked over and stood before Tyrion. This was it, finally Tyrion’s mouth had gotten him into the last bit of trouble he would ever get into. The Lord Commander’s hand reached out, and Tyrion shut his eyes...only for the familiar sound of wine being poured to fill his ears. Opening his eyes he looked up and saw the Lord Commander pouring for himself a glass, and then handed it to the small lordling. Hesitantly, he accepted the cup, and after inspecting the cup, threw aside caution and drank heavily.

Once finished, he was poured another cup, and invited to sit at the commander’s table. Once properly situated, and well into his second cup of wine, the Lord Commander finally spoke.

“You're that new recruit I was told about. The one with sharp wits and a quick tongue...Tyrion was it?”

Finishing up another cup he nodded before pouring for himself another glass.

“Yes my lord, that’s what they call me.”

He drank greedily like a fish starved of water. The Lord Commander laughed some as he watched the half man finish off the bottle by himself.

“You drink as if you haven’t in years, like a shipwrecked sailor starved of water.”

“A man such as myself my lord is very much a drinker, and when a drinker does not drink...bad things begin to happen. I have only recently taught myself to hold my thirst, for fear of losing something I like more than wine.”

“And What is that Tyrion?”

Checking to see that there was no more wine in the bottle, Tyrion answered the Lord Commander, “Why my head of course!”

The Lord Commander let out a chuckle before sending Ser Tristan off to find them some more wine.

“Tyrion...by chance would you happen to be Tyrion Lannister, of House Lannister?”

Tyrion froze solid at the question, but seeing as there was no chance that he could lie, let alone escape from his current circumstances, he opted to tell the truth.

“I might have been...once upon a time. Now I am just Tyrion, a dwarf who drinks, and serves the Golden Company.”

The Lord Commander nodded his head, before asking another question of Tyrion.

“If that is true, then what are you doing over in Essos? Shouldn’t you be at King’s Landing, or the Rock you lions call home?”

Apparently they were not informed of what had transpired in Westeros. That or they were playing coy with Tyrion. I mean how could they not have heard? One moment he is there with his wife attending his golden shit of a nephew’s wedding, the golden haired cunt begins making a fool of him, but he was able to keep his temper in check. Next thing he knows, Joffrey is choking to death, and he is blamed for it all by his sister. What followed was a long and rather nasty series of events that brought him to his current situation.

The trial had been a nightmare, the witnesses brought forward to testify against him held nothing back. The witnesses gathered by Daeron Blackfyre were particularly damning, yet strangely made sure to only implicate himself in the crime. Cersei had wanted Sansa in chains, or better yet executed, but his dear sister often underestimated just how much influence she really had. Blackfyre held far more sway at court than the queen realized, he managed to keep Sansa safe and secure, and his witnesses made sure to paint him alone as the villain, and Sansa for what she was: a child caught in the midst of this game of thrones.

Even when Shae came before the court and said all those things that she said, even after she lied and swore to the things Tyrion never said, and never did, she never brought Sansa into the mix. But that was a step too far with Shae, and so Tyrion could stand no more, and demanded a trial by combat.

Ser Gergor, the fucking mountain Clegane stood for his sister, Prince Oberyn of Dorne stood for Tyrion. And the two fought one another to a bloody finish, Oberyn’s finish as it would turn out, and in the end Tyrion’s end.

A wise man once said, Give a man a taste of hope and you will break him, give it to him twice, and you will turn him into something else entirely.

That was what had happened to Tyrion. When Jaime and two Blackfyre guards arrived to spring him he thought the gods were finally showing him some pity. Jaime’s role was easy enough to see, but Blackfyre’s aid was certainly unexpected. Apparently it was an apology for Tyrion for Blackfyre’s part in his trial. That was also unfortunately when the truth came out, Jaime’s real reason for why he set Tyrion free. That betrayal hurt Tyrion worst of all, still hurt even as he thought about it. Almost as much as when his escort, after leaving Jaime behind, showed him the way to his father’s chambers, and he came upon the unfortunate sight of his Shae in his father’s bed...He lost it.

Death followed death, and by the time he was done Tyrion was exactly what the people called him; kinslayer, murderer, monster, he was all of it.

Stirred from his thoughts the dwarf looked to the Lord Commander and gave him a crooked smile.

“Didn’t you hear? I murdered my nephew the king so I could take over and rule over Westeros. Then I strangled my former lover with a chain, and slew my father with a bolt through his bowels.”

The Commander and Ser Flowers did not speak, only looked to one another before back to the dwarf.

“Is that so?”

“Well the first part about my nephew isn’t, but yes, I strangled by lover, and shot my father dead.”

Taken back by the bluntness and ease of his confession for a moment, the Commander nodded in acceptance before taking a bit from some of his food on the table. The Commander saw Ser Rivers return with a new bottle of wine, and poured a cup for all present in the tent.

After a taste, the Lord Commander looked to Tyrion again, and spoke.

“A man like you could come in quite handy Lord Tyrion. I don’t need you running around like a fucking paige, and I certainly do not need you pouring wine for me...I have far less valuable men to do that. I need you on the forefront of this, I need you out there, helping to control that pack of rabid dogs.”

Tyrion shook his head in confusion, an expression shared by the others present until the Commander clarified for them what he meant.

“When Ser Flowers rides out with his men in the morn, you will accompany him. You will act as his second, and will help keep the men from killing each other. I heard tell you’ve done it before, and so I need you to do it again.”

Everyone was dumbfounded at this, none more so than Tyrion himself.

“But my lord, surely you have others better suited to..”

“I’ve been watching you, as advised by my spymaster. I’ve seen the keen intellect behind the otherwise unappealing form. Your exactly the type of man I need to help keep this collection of pricks and dicks from killing one another, and to keep them focused on fighting the true enemy. You're that man Tyrion, I know you are.

He didn’t know what to say or to do, so the lannister raised his goblet and took a swig. Finishing it off he prepared to leave the tent when two more men entered, both dragging a man with them inside.One of them he didn’t recognize, the other he knew anywhere, his valued companion Ser Jorah Mormont. As for the poor sot they were dragging in, Tyrion had no idea, all he knew was that the poor fool looked like he just finished fighting off a bear.

“Commander,” the unknown guard called out, “We found ourselves this spy here, hiding in the ruins he was. Would have missed him if not for the old bear here.”

Jorah didn’t so much as blink, didn’t even speak, just kept quiet, and his grip on the prisoner tight.

The Lord Commander let out a deep chuckle as he rose to look at the supposed spy. The man was draped in dark clothes from head to toe. A scarf covered his mouth, and the silk bandana covering his hair helped make the man almost look invisible in the night. The Lord Commander looked at his prisoner over once before removing the scarf and bandana. He took in the appearance of the tan skinned man, some intricate tattoo designs around his eyes, but nothing remarkable besides that.

“So my friend, tell me...how is Kazim and the others doing hmm?”

The prisoner would not speak. So the Lord Commander tried asking again.

“How many of you are out there?”

Still nothing but silence.

“Are you alone?”

Nothing...not even a look from him.

“Will you say nothing?”

Silence was his only answer.

So The Commander nodded his head in understanding. He should have known better, he did know better. Kazim had trained his men to never speak. If it came to torture they would bite off their tongues and their fingers before they spoke. He knew this...and he knew what he was going to do next.

Reaching out to the table, and grasping the goblet in his hand, he turned back to the spy and struck him soundly on his left temple with the cup. The spy grew lax in his men’s arms, and so the dropped him to the ground. The poor man twitched and seemed to try and stand, only to be struck soundly by the commander again...and again. In a moment he went from slow and aimed to quick and angry succession of hits, one after another. The blood of his victim sprayed out here and there, bloodying his armor and face, the goblet cracked from the repeated abuse. When the Commander finally finished, the spy’s head, or what was left of it, was nothing more than a pile of flesh, blood and juices all over the ground.

Taking a moment to compose himself, The Lord Commander reached into his pocket and pulled a hankerchief and wiped the blood from his face. Pocketing it afterwards he dismissed everyone from the tent, and sent for stewards to clean up the remains of the dead spy.

As tyrion and Jorah left the tent, Tyrion found his little legs were trying to waddle just a little too fast. Just moments ago he had been having a clam and sensible conversation with the Lord Commander, and then that shit just came out of nowhere. Who the hell was this guy, and what the hell was wrong with him?

Soon Tyrion began a full on sprint, but was stopped by the massive hand of Jorah.

“What the hell were you doing there Lannister?”

“I was delivering wine, then drinking wine, then being made second in command of the vanguard leaving tomorrow, and currently am trying to get as far away from that tent as I possibly can!”

Jorah grabbed him with both hands then, to keep him from running off, and made him look him in the eye.

“The Vanguard, tomorrow for Meereen?”

“Yes I just got through saying that didn’t I?”

Tyrion was drowned out as a forlorn look overtook Jorah’s face. As he walked away from his dwarf companion thoughts began to fill his head of a silver-haired goddess in a pyramid. Her amethyst eyes shining like jewels, he pale skin, the taste of her lips. He remembered all of it. He also remembered her expression as she ordered his exile, he remembered how he felt when she would not even look at him as the guards took him away...he remembered everything.

But now this was his chance, this is the moment he was waiting for. His one chance to get back to Meereen, and more importantly back to his Queen.

“Daenerys, I’ll be there soon my queen.”

xXx

Across the Narrow Sea

King’s Landing

She sat at her window and stared out at the blackwater, as she had countless times before. It was routine by this point in her life. The same routine for over five years now, ever since she made the worst mistake of her life, and came to the capital with her father and sister. She often dreamed of what might her life be like had she not come, had she remained in Winterfell with her mother and brothers. She missed them more than words could express, she missed them all so terribly.

In her nightmares she could hear her poor sister screaming for her to help her, for anyone to help her. She runs to the voice, and tries reaching her, but she is always too late. Then she has to watch as her father is being led away. Always in the dream she is held back by the kingsguard, pleading, begging for them to let her go, to let her father go. But no matter how loudly she begs, no matter how much she cries, they never listen. They always take her father away, and he always tell her the same thing over and over again.

“Be strong Sansa...be strong.”

So that is what she did. No matter what cruelties she faced here in the capital, Sansa remained strong. And she faced all manners of cruelties while here in King’s Landing. The Abuse and threats from Joffrey, the beatings from his corrupt Kingsguard, the condescending and vicious belittling of the Queen, and those were just the ones she could think of off the top of her head.

Once she dreamed of being a southern princess, but now those dreams had turned to ash in her mouth, and she found herself awoken in an unspeakable hell.

Things never got better for Sansa. In fact if she were to be honest with herself she would say that things might have only gotten worse as time went by here in King’s Landing. Joffrey’s threats against her were starting to become much bolder, Cersei’s contempt for her continued to grow as the years went by. It all came to a boiling point when the royal wedding came around. It was everything Sansa once thought a southern wedding would be like, except for how it ended.

It was horrible to admit, but watching Joffrey choke to death, watching his face twist and turn and turn purple...Sansa enjoyed every minute of it...even if she would never admit it out loud to anyone.

Cersei certainly didn’t take Joffrey’s death well. She was mad with grief and was convinced that Sansa was involved in her son’s death. She tried having her thrown in the black cells, but Lord Blackfyre had kept her safe. She was placed under his care until the trial came about, and her innocence was decided or not. Fortune seemed to favor Sansa as the trial found her to be innocent, but unfortunately the same could not be said of her husband, Lord Tyrion Lannister.

Of all the horrid things to ever happen to her, she once thought marrying the imp was the worst of them all. Strange enough, her marriage to Lord Tyrion turned out to be less horrid than she imagined. He never touched her inappropriately, he never tried to force himself on her, in fact he almost acted as though he pitied the poor girl, and her cruel lot in life.

He did his best to do right by her, but sadly Sansa could do nothing for him as witness after tore him apart on the stand before the whole of court.

Even long after the trial, and long after Lord Tyrion had fled the capital after killing Lord Tywin, things continued to get worse for Sansa. She was more than certain that if Lord Blackfyre’s protection wasn’t keeping her safe, that trial or no trial Cersei would have had her killed.

Looking out as the sun began to set, Sansa began absently playing with a lock of her hair. Days like this, when everything was quiet, and nothing seemed to be out of place, she often wondered if there was still hope that she might escape this fate of hers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sansa gasped and turned to see the comly Lord Daeron Blackfyre standing by her door.

She quickly rose from her seat and curtsied to the man. “Lord Blackfyre, I didn’t know you had returned to the capital.”

Daeron smiled as he gestured to her if he could enter. Sansa nodded, and he entered her chambers. Smiling to himself to paced the length of the room, and saw the small belongings that she had. Not to say she didn’t have nice things, certainly for a lady of her station she was provided for with plenty of dresses and other assortments, and the room itself was beautiful.

No he looked to the things he knew held meaning to her. Most prominently being a small little doll she had place on the stand right next to her bed.

“I trust you're in good health lady Sansa?”

“Yes my lord, as well as can be expected,” she answered in a voice that was just above a whisper.

He smiled to hear her say that, turning to look at her, and address her properly.

“That fills me with joy to hear Lady Sansa. I admit with all that has happened here in the capital of late, I was worried for a moment that you might not be adjusting very well.”

“Oh no my lord I assure you, I’m well adjusted and am doing quite well. I thank you for your concern for my well being.”

He smiled as he took a single step towards her.

“Of course I am concerned with your well being, after all I have promised your mother and brother that you would be well looked after. I am a man of my word.”

Her mother and brother. The words caused both joy and pain to surge within her. Even now if she closed her eyes she could still imagine her mother’s fiery auburn hair, and her brother Robb, every bit the northern as her father was. Then there was Rickon and Bran, their faces every bit as clear in her mind as the last day she had ever seen them. And Arya...little Arya...she, she couldn’t bear to think on Arya...it hurt too much.

Tears began to well up in her eyes as the memories came unbidden into her head. This prompted Daeron to reach out and wipe them away with a handkerchief. Once he saw that her eyes were dry, and tilted her chin up with his finger and had her look him in the eye.

“Your a strong young woman Sansa Stark, far stronger than most girls your age. I doubt even half of them could had endured a fraction of what you have seen and been nearly as strong.”

Strangely enough his words caused her to blush in embarrassment. Lord Daeron always did this to her with his compliments of her. He was good to her, never asking for anything, never leering like others, and definitely never too forward unlike another lord she could name. He legitimately just wanted to make sure she was ok.

“Now stop your crying Lady Sansa, I come bearing good news for you.”

Curiosity peeked in her as she sat down on the seat near her dresser, while Lord Daeron situated himself on her bed.

“These last few years have been hard on you sansa, I know that have, and I know that you miss your family and friends dearly. I can only imagine what having to live here for five years must have been like, all the horrors you have had to endure. Your father being taken away and never seeing him again, the...unfortunate circumstances surrounding your sister,” that last part brought a familiar throb of pain to Sansa’s chest. “I know it has been hard...but your suffering might finally be at an end.”

She heard the words come from his mouth, but she dared not believe them. Her suffering at an end, did he mean that she was being let go, that she could go home to her family, back to Winterfell!?

“Do...do you mean I am going home, going home to my family, to Winterfell?”

The chuckle he let out did not inspire much confidence in Sansa.

“My dear child it has already been explained that you will most likely never see Winterfell again.”

The truth of his words hit her hard like a ton of bricks. It always did when she reminded herself of her current situation.

“But as for leaving the capital...there might be some truth in that.”

Again he gave her tastes of hope in one breath, and all the while shattering her hopes with the next. It confounded her to no end!

“You say I will never see Winterfell again, yet say I will be able to leave King’s Landing. Which is it Lord Blackfyre, am I free to leave or am I still the Queen’s prisoner!?”

“Your are both my lady. For as long as you live you will remain in the south as a guest of the royal family, and an important hostage to deter your brother from making any unnecessary trouble for everyone. It would not do to have to repeat the unpleasantness of my last meeting with him at the whispering woods now would it?”

Sansa’s eyes shut tight as she tried to block out the painful memories of what had happened there, of what others had told her happened there. Her brother, Lord Blackfyre, and the little box he presented her brother with. It was too horrible to think of.

“Yes lady Sansa, I would not like to have to do that ever again, especially after I swore all manner of vows to your mother that you would be safe under my protection. No my dear your part in this game is to be the precious piece that keep the game in a stalemate. So long as we have you as our guest, the less likely we are to break out into another war.”

His hand came up to cup the young maid’s face. “That being said, I think it is about time we found you a new change of scenery don't you? Watching the same sunset from your window day in and day out must get tiresome after a while.”

Despite her never ending sadness at the idea of never going home again, she could not help but take a little comfort in the fact that she would be leaving the capital.

“I have some dear friends that would be honored to host you in their home in the Reach. The way things are going here in the capital recently, I just wouldn’t be comfortable leaving you here.”

Yes, much had happened of late, and it all revolved around, as far as Sansa was told, by a group of individuals that were self-styled at the Sparrows. Curious name, as was the name of their leader, the so-called High Sparrow, who as Sansa understood it was also now the new High Septon. Some new wave of religious zeal was sweeping the capital, and it was causing some really big waves. Standing from her bed, Daeron smiled once more to Sansa before he walked over towards her door. But before he opened it, Sansa spoke up.

“But the Queen will never let me leave. She hates me, she’d never let me leave the capital, where she can’t keep her eyes on me. How will you get the Queen to-”

“Never mind the Queen Sansa, she is not your concern, and neither is she to me.”

“But she is still the Queen.” Daeron merely laughed softly at her words, and nodded his head at Sansa like an adult would to a child.

“Dear Sansa, you are still naive to the truths of this world. Yes Cersei Lannister is queen, and yes she has no intention to ever see you leave the capital most likely, but you fail to see the truth. That despite all these players claims of power, they are all merely puppets with someone pulling their strings. Once you realize this, you realize also that they have no real power, and that there is nothing to fear from them.”

She listened to his words, and then she asked him, “So who pulls your strings then Lord Daeron?”

A smirk formed on his pretty face as he answered her.

“Sweet Child, there are no strings on me. I am no one’s puppet.”

The smirk widened into a grin, and Sansa began to feel a slight bit fearful of the great lord.

“I’m the one pulling the strings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there we go. So sorry everyone for the lateness in the story, but life is life. Just finished another wonderful semester of college, and I just needed a break from writing in general. Anyways I am back, and ready to go. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I cannot wait for you guys to check out what I have in store for you next chapter.
> 
> See you guys next time.
> 
> P.S. Daeron is no Baelish, he does not have some sick obsession of desire for her like Creepyfinger does, so don’t even go there. Just wanted to cut that off before any of you jump to conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> Well everyone here we go. First chapter is out of the way, and it’s nowhere but up from here on out…I hope. As you can all see this is a MAJOR AU with many changes being implemented into the story to help the timeline and history along for my universe I am creating here. And yes OC’s will be prominent here in the Company of the Brave Swords. All these men are my own creations, and have a part to play to the narrative that is crucial to each and every one of them. As for visuals for my men…I’ll leave it to you to picture what they look like yourself. I have models I based them off of, and maybe in the future I’ll be kind enough to let you see what I imagine they look like. Any who keep a lookout for chapter 2, coming to you guys as soon as possible.
> 
> Once again thanks so much for taking the time to check out my story, leave a review to tell me what you think, and follow me on Tumblr for updates on the story and just to check out my other stuff. Same name, different site [pumpkinkingofgames on tumblr].
> 
> Till next time everyone.


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